


Same Sovereign Cruelty

by Killtheselights, TheLadyoftheHouse



Series: Conceal Me What I Am [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ahch-To, Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Imprisonment, Interrogation, Kyber Crystals, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Meditation, Minor Finn/Rose Tico, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Psychological Torture, References to Shakespeare, Romantic Angst, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Takodana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 122,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killtheselights/pseuds/Killtheselights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyoftheHouse/pseuds/TheLadyoftheHouse
Summary: "Still so cruel?""Still so constant, lord."Rey sacrificed her freedom for Ben's safety and is now cut off from the Force. Ben returned to the First Order in a desperate attempt to find his love. Every day lost between them, their love is tested. But their greatest test is yet to come when she is issued an edict: Bring back Ben Solo, or kill Kylo Ren.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  
> 
>  
> 
> If you're now joining us, you have entered a tragedy already in progress.
> 
> You are welcome to enjoy our prose, certainly, but this might be a bit hard to follow without context.
> 
> Please enjoy the rest of the _Conceal Me What I Am_ series, part 1, ["Conceal Me What I Am"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242881/chapters/32843100) and part 2, ["Sighs of Fire"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078494/chapters/34960241).
> 
> Or don't. I'm not a cop.
> 
> But it'd be really nice if you did.
> 
> Anyway, have some Star War.

    "Still so cruel?"  
  
    "Still so constant, lord."

        Twelfth Night, or What You Will, V.I.106-107

* * *

Hux heard the screaming echoing down the corridor before the turbolift doors even opened.

He could hardly suppress a smirk at that. Really, this particular delight was a long time coming. He simply couldn’t help but indulge in it.

He strolled leisurely towards the medical bay, listening to the clanking metal ahead and trying to predict the carnage that would await him.

As he crossed the threshold and the head of a service droid landed at his feet, he was pleased to discover that his predictions were accurate. He had no doubt, of course; he hadn’t gotten to where he was without the ability to accurately extrapolate from prior knowledge. And he knew Kylo Ren was not about to suffer gently.

He watched for a moment as the remaining medical droids tugged against Ren’s leg, his rage causing the surgical tools in the room to rattle as if the entire ship were trembling. Larger pieces of what had been other examining tables flew as if caught in a vortex. Though he was used to this sorcery, it never became less strange, Hux reflected.

“My word, what a disaster,” he intoned borely at no one in particular, stepping over the new scrap metal at his feet. “Did no one think to sedate the Supreme Leader prior to engaging him in this procedure?”

“I’m sorry, General,” a timid medical officer said, cowering behind an exam table. “He wouldn’t take the needles.”

Hux sighed. He knew that meant that the young medical officers were too scared to actually touch the Supreme Leader.

“Did you try talking to him first?”

“General?”

Hux rolled his eyes and finally strolled over to the panting, nearly nude, feral creature currently strapped to an exam table, dark hair clinging to his face in sweaty, greasy strands.

“My lord, are you well?” Hux asked.

Kylo Ren gnashed his teeth, the tendons in his neck standing out in tensed cords. “What do you think?”

Hux stood taller. “Supreme Leader, you know it necessary to re-break your leg in order to facilitate the healing process. If the bones are not properly reset, you won’t be able to walk—”

“I _know_ that,” Kylo snapped, chest heaving. “But would it... _augh_ ...kill you to task some competent officers to my care?”  
  
“Apologies, my lord,” Hux said, turning away and consulting a nearby data screen so none of the lesser officers could see him smirking. He entered his authorization code, punched in a sequence, and grabbed the syringe that appeared in the dispenser. He turned around and approached the Supreme Leader, his hands behind his back in his customary posture.

“You can be assured I will amend this,” he continued in a smooth drone, coming to stand beside the head of the table. “Though you might want to hold still.”

Ren rolled his head slowly to glare at him, and in a flash, Hux jammed the syringe in his hand into the Supreme Leader’s neck. Ren groaned in a mix of anger and pain as the anesthesia took effect, curses dissolving into an unintelligible rumble as he fell limp against the table.

Hux leaned triumphantly over his rival, smiling broadly. Gripping Ren’s jaw, he tilted the slackened face towards him, the man’s eyelashes fluttering as he slid deeper out of consciousness.

“Don’t worry, Ren,” he crooned viciously. “The pain is only just beginning. You may have the impression that you can simply return from the dead to resume your place in the First Order, but know that you will no longer sit as comfortably on that throne. I will make sure of that.”

He patted the man roughly on his stubbled cheek.

“Welcome back, Supreme Leader.”  
  


The silence of the throne room seemed to echo in Ben’s head, an atmosphere’s worth of noiseless pressure filling his sinuses. It was oppressive. There was no one else in the silence with him, no one to interrupt the quiet of his mind. So he let the screams free.

Of course, he had been glad to see the officers and stormtroopers leave after the humiliation of his entrance, his slow crawl to face his former subordinates. The trudge was made even more difficult by the mask he had slid back onto his face the moment he had landed his starhopper in the large hangar bay of the Super Star Destroyer. He could not show anything but utter strength, projecting an even control despite the pain wracking his body and mind. From his seat on the throne he could see the ranks of soldiers filing out stiffly, now that the interloper was proven to have been a ghost, their dead leader miraculously restored in the form of a wretched, wounded man.

Hux had invited him to wait on his throne while a examination room was prepared in the medical bay to address his injuries. Of course, Hux had enjoyed parading the broken, undead Kylo Ren before the First Order. What better way to welcome him back, after all, but to remind all assembled of the frailty and weakness of their leader. How pathetic the Supreme Leader is! How replaceable! Not a god. Another mere mortal.

And once he was alone, he hugged his good leg to his chest, curling into himself on the cold onyx throne, and cried out into the empty chamber until the wrath and pain eating at him had subsided.

He yanked at the chord that once held his and Rey’s minds together, the silent communication between them mixing memories and hopes and fears into a stream of thought that roiled in the empty spaces separating them. It had been a comforting alternative to the harsh loneliness and self-hatred that had filled his head since childhood, thanks to Snoke manipulating the Darkness within him.

But now he was alone again. And he knew it was his fault.

Wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand, he shifted until his good arm could reach his pocket, and he pulled out the note he had burned into his mind.

_Ben, my love,_

_I hope the morning finds you well. I'll be thinking of you until I get back. Don't re-break anything while I'm gone._

_I love you._

_Your Rey_

He held the paper in his grubby fingers as if it were a precious artifact. It was the only thing he knew to be true at the moment: somewhere in the galaxy, perhaps on Takodana still, perhaps elsewhere, Rey loved him. What had happened in the cabin, in the cave, it was real. All of it. He could still faintly feel her caresses against his skin, her palm against his heart, her heartbeat traveling through her body to his.

He had to find her again. And he would. But now he was too frail to fight.

He needed the First Order to get well so he could find her again.

That was all.

He would be back to her soon, and their dreams of piloting the galaxy together could still come true.

_Ben, my love._

But for now, he was here.

 _A prisoner,_ he thought darkly. _If I wasn’t one on Takodana, I certainly am one here._

He made the mistake of returning to the First Order again and again, but this would be the last time. He didn’t want this life, not now that he’d seen an alternative.

He didn’t know what they had planned in his absence, but he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to deal with the squabbling sycophants now.

He sighed, gazing again at the note, one final, silent sob escaping him.

It wouldn’t be forever.

_I'll be thinking of you until I get back._

He felt officers approaching in the turbolift.

He called the staff back to his hand and carefully loosened one of the fabric strips wrapping around it. Folding the note carefully, he tied the strip back in place, securing the note beneath it.

Unfolding himself from the throne, he rose to his feet slowly, wiping his eyes one last time and assuming the cold, regal mask expected of the Supreme Leader.

_Don't re-break anything while I'm gone._

The medical officers ushered him to the medical wing for a proper examination.

Leaning on the staff, he limped towards them.

None of them could see the faint glow of Rey’s staff. The light was his, all his.

_I love you._

  


It is hard to stay conscious while submerged in bacta, and that is often for the best.

The feeling of bone fragments reconnecting, muscle fibers regrowing, organs patching themselves, skin reforming—it can all be overwhelming when it happens too quickly.

The last time, the bacta had been a relief. Kylo had been nearly blinded by pain after he was rescued from what was left of Starkiller, chest and side and face all searing in pain, the cold snow of the collapsing world beneath him his only respite, even as the chill bit at his exposed flesh. But worse than that; he was suffering from a thousand emotional agonies pricking him at once.

He had been defeated, humiliated, shamed, left for dead. That was all bad enough. Already he was envisioning Snoke’s ensuing displeasure. He tried to tamp down the thoughts of his father that threatened to resurface; Han’s hand on his cheek as the lightsaber through his father’s chest stopped his breath...he couldn’t think of that. It was the right thing to do. It had been necessary. A sacrifice to the Dark side. He couldn’t worry about that.

That was his only defense against the mockery he was bound to face for his failure.

But knew he had suffered more than simply defeat; the Force had not obeyed him. The lightsaber, his grandfather’s saber, his _birthright_ would not bend to his will. Whatever had happened when he interrogated the girl had opened the doorway into his mind. She hadn’t fought with a lightsaber before, but she instantly knew all of his techniques, as if she had absorbed the countless hours of training in the blink of an eye. He felt as if he were fighting himself.

The girl. Rey, she had called herself.

There would be no recovering from that. From _her._

The combination of screaming nerve endings and the singed flesh on his face pulsed in time with his racing heartbeat. His eye had swollen shut, preventing him from seeing the ship landing to rescue him. He was given a temporary medpack until he could be taken to the Supremacy’s medical wing, a paltry first attempt to suture his gaping wounds.

He had screamed the entire time, howls echoing off the escape shuttle’s polished durasteel surfaces.

The medical officers had explained to him the extent of the trauma, walked him through their planned course of treatment. Patching the extensive damage to his side was top priority; treating the gash on his face and neck was just barely secondary. The bacta would be tasked with addressing the bulk of the injury; it would likely repair the bowcaster shot, though some external suturing might be needed. The lightsaber wounds would be a different matter. Kylo didn’t hear what they said about them.

The bacta had blessedly washed away most of the memories of the long journey from Starkiller to the Supremacy, but the pain was not so easy to get rid of.

Many do not retain memories of past pains. Kylo did. The Force helped him remember. He found them in the Darkness, and channeled them to make himself stronger.

He was still unconscious when they built the synthetic scar bridge into his face. But with the Resistance in their sights, he had little time to rest and recover. He had to be vigilant again. He had to atone to his master, prove that he could overcome this failing. He had to find Skywalker.

And that’s when the connections started.

But now his mind was silent, and he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. His vision was foggy, but he could see the dark halo of his hair floating around his face, and in his mind, he could feel Rey’s fingers tugging through it, washing it in the rain.

He could almost imagine...

_Ben?_

The word was quiet, almost distant, but submerged in the bacta, it sounded like a cry in his ears.

The encompassing weightlessness and the strange sensations in his leg, sides, and shoulder began to pull him away again.

His name, one more time.

 _Ben_ .  
  
It almost sounded like Rey’s voice.  
  
That was impossible.

So near.  
  
He felt himself getting pulled out of consciousness again, and he tried to fight it, but quickly succumbed.

She had sounded so near.

  


He stood, shivering, in the middle of the exam room.

He was standing on his own again, his leg once more solid and sturdy beneath him.

He had even managed to take a few steps.

He folded his hands behind his back while the officers stared and prodded him. His gaze never left the floor in front of him.

He somehow felt worse than before.

 _This body_ _is not mine._

The officers, approaching him cautiously, tapped on his clavicle. The breaks were gone. The bone callus was minimal, one declared proudly.

He had awakened again outside the tank, where they had pulled him onto the cold, durasteel exam table. They wiped him down to try to remove the residue that clung to him like a gelatinous membrane, rinsed and combed his hair, then gave him some privacy and a fresh pair of underwear to change into while they finished their assessment.

And now their eyes traveled over his exposed flesh, and he couldn’t help but shiver at the scrutiny.

He had been in a state of undress for most of his time on Takodana, but he felt far more naked here. This body became a detached thing that was examined and assessed. It was not his.

 _His_ body was pained. Broken. Raw. But the horrible sensations were pieces of him, harrowing reminders that he had lived even though he had thought he was bound for death.

 _His_ body was real. It had suffered, but it was his.

 _His_ body was touched by Rey, was loved and cared for. He remembered her fingers pressing against the bump on his clavicle, her careful unwrapping of the bandages, her kisses fluttering against the sacred parts of him that hadn’t known tenderness.

He knew her touch, still alive in his memory. Her hands skating across him. Her lips pressed delicately to his face. The feeling of her under his fingertips. Her hands in his. Her hair tickling his nose. Her gentle heartbeat against his side. All marks left on him that no other could see.

Did he still have the bruises peppering his neck from her love bites and kisses, he wondered.  
  
No, he realized. They didn’t stand a chance against the bacta.

As officers began to prod at his ribs, he felt another revelation dawning on him.

This was not the body Rey had touched.

Rey had placed her hands on him, on every inch, running suds across his chest and abdomen and back. She had rested her body on his, had taken him inside her, had held him close as she slept peacefully. And yet for all that contact, when he had been submerged, there had not been an inch of his skin that had not been destroyed and reformed. His older top layers of skin were shed, and new ones grew rapidly in the tank. Layer by layer by layer until he was healed inside and out. Only the old, deep scars remained.

He felt like he was beginning to tremble, but he couldn’t tell. Everything was so vague around him, the officers’ voices dispersing into a low murmur. The medical officers placed more hands on him as they began to poke at his thigh, testing the bone.

Everything Rey had touched had been sloughed off, the skin had all been shed, the impression of the touch with it, buried under layers of bacta, thick and viscous and unyielding to memory. He could not feel her in his foggy mind; it was as if the ghosts of her fingerprints had been scraped away, and he was now even more naked than before.  
  
His hands behind his back shook, but as his finger scrabbled blindly behind him for the item he sought, the officers tugged his right arm, making sure they could observe it flexing, that the collarbone was now supporting the weight. His eyes trailed down to his hand.

For the first time in over a year, his wrist was bare. The black ribbon, Rey’s hair ribbon, was gone.

He suppressed another scream. His body shook with rage. The officers gripped him tighter.  
  
Supreme Leader.

Supreme Leader, are you all right?  
  
My lord?  
  
He could not look at them. They hurried him over to the exam table, and pushed him flat. He didn’t resist. He didn’t stop the tremors. He couldn’t.  
  
They shoved lights in his eyes, tapped him with various meters, prodded him some more, discussed these strange symptoms as if he weren’t there, and when he felt like he couldn’t take any more, they handed him a pile of black clothing and gave him privacy again.  
  
There was nothing left of her on his body, no more of her touch. He couldn’t feel her in his memory.  
  
He tugged the cord between them.  
  
Emptiness.  
  
It was becoming too uncomfortably familiar for him.  
  
The black clothing felt odd. It fit perfectly, if not a little looser where he had lost weight and muscle. It was, nevertheless, too constricting. The cape, at least, felt familiar. It covered him, obscured him. It felt powerful. It felt safe.  
  
The officers returned, and offered to escort him back to his quarters. It was just fatigue, they assured him blandly, that had caused his outburst. Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

He tried to nonchalantly ask about his old clothing. He was informed gently that it had all been destroyed. He agreed, as if this had been what he had intended for it. He didn’t ask about the ribbon.

The staff, however, he requested to be returned to him. It had been saved.  
  
Good, he acknowledged. It was given to me by an ally. I wish to return it one day.  
  
My lord, the armory wishes to know about your mask.

He blinked. What of it?

Would you like your mask again, Supreme Leader? It was destroyed in your…

That, yes.

_Yes. Please don’t let them see me. Whatever else. I can’t be here. I don’t want to be seen._

Thank you. That will be all.

Get some rest, my lord.

The door slid shut behind the officer, and Ben was left alone in silence and darkness.

It was nothing new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like all good things, I begin this story with profuse screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should know, he mocked himself bitterly. It shouldn’t be this hard, not for the heir of Skywalker. He had felt her mind so many times, felt her fingerprints on his memory, he knew the warmth of her light like he knew the path of her scar on his face.
> 
> And yet she had just vanished. Snuffed out, silenced.

For a moment, he forgot.

It was that blissful moment between dreaming and waking. His eyes were still shut, but awareness was slowly filtering into his mind as the dreamscape ebbed away. He clutched at the last fading images; Rey, her head thrown back in laughter. Rey dancing, her fingers gripping his as she whirled under his arm. Rey taking his hand in a blazing throne room.

He could easily believe, then, that Rey was with him, nestled in his arms as the rain poured outside. He was well, whole. He basked in the last remnants of his sleep.

But then he heard the unmistakable soft wheeze of a ventilation system somewhere nearby.

He felt the ‘troopers patrolling the bridge. Battalions training several decks down. Officers dining down the hall.

He groaned.

His eyes slowly opening, he remembered.

The ambient lighting was not the soft glow of the cave. The metallic walls were not the reddish rock that had coated his skin and hair in dust, the stone walls that had supported Rey when he could not. The bed was not the pallet. She was not beside him.

He remembered the night before, returning to his room alone.

Alone at last, away from the officers and sniveling generals. A relief.

And yet.

The Force had been a tempest around him. The room that had been hastily prepared for his arrival was quickly and all too easily destroyed as the few items left for his comfort were dashed wildly against the walls. He had howled until he couldn’t make another sound. He had sagged to the floor, broken at last.

This wasn’t where he wanted to be.

 

Once his anger was spent, the familiar lull of bacta fatigue had begun to take its toll on him, and he could barely stand to undress himself. He slid into bed, the blankets thankfully relatively undamaged by his earlier tirade.

The mattress had been too uncomfortably plush compared to the pallet. The sheets were too soft against his bare skin. The room was too quiet. He missed the chirping of avians and rustling of foliage through the cabin walls, beyond the cave mouth. His arms had been too empty, his muscles aching to hold Rey’s body close to his clutched at the empty space beside him. She facilitated his healing, filling in the fragmented pieces of his bones; now the breaks were mended but hollow, and it rang through his every nerve.

Yet, despite it all, he had managed to fall asleep. His dreams now seemed more appealing than his reality, but sleep refused to return.

He slowly rolled his head over to the side.

The clock that had hung on the wall was absent. That had been a victim of his fit the night before. He felt around the room for it and called it to his bedside.

Despite the cracked face, he could read the display well enough to determine that he had long since overslept beyond any time considered decent or professional for a leader.

The First Order had done well enough without him for this long that surely they would not need him for anything today, he reasoned, rolling back over.

He knew sleep wouldn’t return.

He’d never been that lucky.

His bones still ached, but this time he assumed it was from the accelerated healing rather than the brokeness; his body had shocked itself back together with such speed that the soreness still lingered in his nerves out of a sense of obligation.

Or maybe it was all in his head. Maybe he was remembering the soreness, remembering how it felt to piece himself together bit by bit. It was the ache of longing for the touch of his healer, of her hands, delicate yet firm…

His breath caught in his throat, and he yanked on the mental link between them.

_Rey?_

There was that eerie silence again.

His heart began to race, and he sat up.

He tried again. And again. Just as he had on the starhopper as he was brought to First Order flagship. Just as Rey had shown him she had during the long silence before his crash. He pulled and tugged at the phantom memory of her mind.

He felt for anything that reminded him of her, he rifled through the memories she had shared for a refrain or melody or note of her.

He listened for her heartbeat in every corner of the galaxy he could reach.

He had known it was hopeless.

The emptiness ringing in his mind was deafening.

He buried his face in his hands until the sobbing ceased.

 _Unmanly,_ he chided himself, the voice in his mind eerily close to his own but...wrong. Colder. Mechanical. _Pathetic._

There it was again.

_Weak._

The Darkness, the hatred and doubt that had possessed him since childhood, came creeping back unbidden from the corners of his mind.

_You will never be Vader. You are too soft._

He remembered the moment the voice had first been silenced. He had finally quashed it to save Rey.

But she wasn’t here now. And he couldn’t make himself silence it.

_You have your father’s heart, young Solo. It will always make you weak._

He howled in rage again, and sent the clock flying against the wall, shattering it into pieces that scattered across the floor.  
  
The emptiness in his heart was suffocating. He was drowning in the fear, the hate. The guilt of what he had done.

He stopped fighting it. He let the Darkness free.

 

He was left alone to recover for that day, and he spent most of it seething. Eventually he got dressed, a surprisingly easy task for a change, and considered a walk, but he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. There was nothing for him out there, nothing that he wanted. In here, he was alone. On Takodana he had hated the long stretches of pain-tinted loneliness. Now he preferred solitude, or at least the relative solitude he was granted now.

He knew there were guards outside the door. He knows his officers were likely chomping at the bit, waiting to give him new reports.

He was never truly alone in the First Order; something that he had once considered a virtue now became a curse.

In the afternoon his datapad beeped, informing him that an agenda had been set for him for the following day. Upon inspection, he found that his schedule was oppressively rigid; every hour was planned, right down to the travel time between decks.

Hux’s handiwork, of course, or one of his minions, though even the most ardent of his pupils could scarcely measure up to the confining precision that made Hux himself completely intolerable.

His idleness was about to be addressed.

 

Food was delivered to Ben’s quarters, and he could already feel the merciless routine of First Order life chafing against freshly healed skin. The last time he had been wounded, the bacta had made him ravenous. Now he could barely stomach more than a few bites of the specially formulated protein paste and fiber bar.

He imagined the sweet Jogan fruit sitting on the small pile of presents Rey had left for him. Her thumb wiping at the corner of his mouth. The lingering taste of the juice in her kiss.

He threw his tray, sending the colorless paste flying everywhere. An MSE-6 droid would clean it later.

The rest of the time he spent in meditation, letting the Darkness in his heart breathe deeply of the energy at every corner of the galaxy, the fear and rage pumping his blood.

He ripped himself open over and over for hours, desperate to find any trace of her.

He could not find Rey, but he knew she wasn’t dead.

He had known when his father had died. Beyond feeling the man’s life end at his blade, he’d felt a solid ringing in the Force. The absence of Han manifested his senses almost as his living self had registered as a hand on his face. There was a shadow in the galaxy where Han had been.

Where Rey, a blazing light, had once been, there was simply nothing. The bond was severed again. He wondered blankly if he was too far away, too weak to find her.

After Crait, he could feel her, though she had stubbornly shut him out. But he knew she was out there, fuming at him for choosing the First Order. Of that he was certain.

After Canto Bight, he had locked her out of his mind. He couldn’t bear to feel her clawing at his mind, reminding him that again, he’d chosen the coward’s path. But never did he doubt that she lived.

He could not imagine even now she was dead. He would have known. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d have to have known. She was too much a part of him, embedded in his soul; he would have felt it if that part of him died, or so he hoped.

The image of her falling to her knees was seared into his mind.

_Run._

He had watched her disappear before him.

He should _know,_ he mocked himself bitterly. It shouldn’t be this hard, not for the heir of Skywalker. He had felt her mind so many times, felt her fingerprints on his memory, he knew the warmth of her light like he knew the path of her scar on his face.

And yet she had just vanished. Snuffed out, silenced.

He felt his rage boiling again.

He thought himself this strong, yet he could not protect the woman he loved?

There was nothing left whole in the room when his dinner was delivered. The slashed remains of his sheets were dark confetti on the floor, and his mattress had fared little better.

The young ‘trooper looked around the room alarmed, but the Supreme Leader sat in the center of the shredded room in a lotus pose.

“Prepare new chambers for me,” he commanded brusquely, his deep voice hoarse. “I wish to sleep.”

 

Sleep came with assistance. There was a bottle of sleeping tablets on the nightstand in his new room, as well as fresh black tunics and capes, and the staff. Rey’s staff. The last piece he had of her. He let his hands run across the rough metal and fabric. He clutched it tight until his palms protested and the skin creaked over his knuckles. It clattered against the floor as he drifted off.

 

His dreams were dark, as they had always been.  
  
He was running through shadows, the tree branches snapping against his cheeks and his hands as he barreled through the woods.   
  
Away from the fires. Away from the temple burning behind him.   
  
The further away he ran, the more he felt the shadows covering him. And he couldn’t get away.

He felt it there, sickening claws clutching at the back of his nightshirt.

Then he pitched forward and fell.  
  
When he managed to push himself up again, he found himself in a familiar room

The tall ceilings, the harsh red walls. The room was exactly as he remembered it.   
  
The throne room of the Supremacy. He had been here many times.   
  
He scrambled to his feet and strode forward, kneeling before the dais with its severe black throne, the familiar pressure of the cold floor against his shin, his head hung forward, body rigid with shame. 

The chair spun around slowly.   
  
He had expected the tall, pale, grotesque form that had haunted him since childhood.   
  
Instead, he was greeted by a shadow, breathing mechanically.

Darth Vader peered down at him from the Supreme Leader’s throne.

“Rise, Kylo Ren,” a deep, mechanical voice boomed. “Unless that is not what you wish to be called.”  
  
“My lord?” Ben staggered again as if shoved, falling to both knees. Vader seemed so far away.   
  
“You will forgive me for usurping your throne,” Vader said with nonchalance coloring his toneless voice. “It seemed the most appealing seat in the room.”   
  
He rose, turning to examine it appraisingly. “It is strange to imagine the contention this seat has caused. The galaxy has been torn asunder for it. And you ripped yourself apart, for it. You destroyed your family. Abandoned the woman you loved. All for this...chair.”

Ben tried to protest, but his voice stuck in his chest.  
  
Vader took a few steps away from the throne to look down at his grandson. “Was it worth, Ben?”   
  
“Y-you called me…”   
  
“Ben Solo. Yes, that is your name, correct?”   
  
Ben shuddered. “But you...you never met me. You’re dead.”   
  
“No, I never met you.” His grandfather paused, the hellish mask devoid of expression. “And that is a great tragedy. But you are exceptional. And flawed. And prone to the same mistakes I succumbed to.”

“But I’m...I’m not you,” Ben said, voice shaking. Doubt, that familiar beast, flared in his chest, reminding him it had to be worth it. Everything he’d done...it had been to become this. It had been so that he would not kneel forever.

“I-I surpassed you. I exceeded everything you accomplished. I didn’t fail.”  
  
“Ah yes, the mighty Supreme Leader Ren. He achieved it all, didn’t he?” Vader asked, strolling towards the edge of the platform.   
  
“Yes, I achieved everything I ever hoped to,” Ben spat, rising shakily to his feet, righteous anger propelling him. “My power is unmatched; I am ruling the galaxy where you could not.”   
  
Vader stepped forward again.   
  
“But is it what you want?”   
  
His voice had shifted; it was no longer the frigid, mechanical echo Ben had learned to fear and respect so long ago. It was softer. Human.   
  
He looked back at the dark figure, and where Vader once stood, there was a tall man, illuminated red in the light of the throne room.   
  
“Ben, is this who you really are?”   
  
“Who are you?”   
  
“Who are _you_ ?” the man asked, light eyes twinkling. “I thought you were the Supreme Leader. _More powerful than Vader!_ ”   
  
“You’re...you’re not—”

The stranger cut him off with a casual gesture, his mismatched hands raised in placation and persuasion.  
  
“You have a choice, Ben. You can stay as you are. Play the role you’ve been desperate for all your life. You can be Supreme Leader, have this throne again. It’s yours for the taking. You just need conviction. You can’t lead if you don’t believe in yourself, and you’re falling apart. Can’t have that,” he chided, clicking his tongue in disapproval.   
  
The man strode towards Ben, his Jedi robes flowing behind him.

“Or, if this whole Supreme Leader thing isn’t want you really want, you can fix it. You know how. You’ve tried and failed twice, but it’s been _right there_ .” He chuckled wryly. “As someone who made some pretty bad decisions, let me tell you, that has been painful to watch.”   
  
He shrugged.   
  
“Up to you, little starfighter. But there’s a lot of Darkness you need to contend with, either way. One of these options is going to use it, use _you_ , until you burn out. And the other...the other has a cute smile and an affinity for green and growing things.”   
  
The man looked about his age, if not younger, and Ben winced, averting his stare; he felt like a child in his presence. The stranger was within arm’s reach now. He scrutinized Ben in silence before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, drawing Ben’s eyes back up. The man’s answering smile was tired and kind.   
  
“Like I said, the seat’s all yours, if you want it. It’s not very comfortable. Not particularly forgiving. But, hey, you wanted it more than me.”   
  
“...Anakin?”   
  
“Don’t forget, you’re the Supreme Leader now.” The man shot his grandson a wink as he walked past him. Ben still felt the iron weight of the man's hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Remember your part. Act tough. Kill the past, or whatever you have to, Lord Ren,” he called over his shoulder. “Your choice.” 

Ben had been alone in that red room far too many times. The chill of it, even imagined, woke him from his sleep.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO Look at these long-haired emo nerds shit-talking each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was loved once, he thought bitterly.
> 
> This body, this man. This shattered spirit.
> 
> I was loved once.

"Any thing that's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue."

        Twelfth Night, or What You Will, I.V

* * *

  
Kylo strode into the armory early the following morning to collect his new mask. The quartermaster presented it with appropriate deference, trembling for his approval. It fit perfectly across his jaw as the other had, pressing tightly against his cheeks and mouth.

His voice wasn’t the soft purr it had been when he had muttered loving odes into Rey’s skin, whispering promises and adorations into her lips. It was thunder, crackling with malice. His voice, already low and grim, became rougher, more mechanical. Colder. Inhuman.

It was exactly what he needed.

He had awakened from his dream in the early morning hours in a state of disorientation, and he had not fallen back asleep. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t bear that dream again.

For all those years under Snoke’s thumb, he had stared into the melted eyes of Darth Vader’s mask and prayed for advice, for guidance in shunning the Light within him whenever it grew too bright. But never had he heard so much as a whisper from the warped metal shell.

Only now, after everything, had Vader appeared in his dreams, and as Anakin Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker, Jedi war hero. Ben had never seen the man, not in any holos he could recall anyway, but he knew that his mind had somehow conjured the man’s exact likeness. He tried to blame it on the bacta, nothing but a vivid hallucination, but the sinister alternative kept creeping into his thoughts: at long last, _this_ was a Force vision from his grandfather.

It wasn’t what he’d hoped, to put it lightly.

He had roared and screamed and swore his throat raw again, but with the vocalizer in his mask, it was impossible to hear how light and raspy his voice had become. Perhaps the ugly hunk of metal and machinery had a good purpose, after all.

He had settled on this half mask after Canto Bight. His advisers had thought that it would be beneficial to show the galaxy that the Supreme Leader had survived, not a decoy in the Supreme Leader’s skin, but that the attempts of foolish renegades on his life had only made him stronger, made him _more_.

He was a beast. The attack dog without a leash. The mask was a muzzle. He could not bite, but that didn’t make his enemies safe; it merely afforded them the illusion of safety. It was a chilling facade.

Before the crash, the eyes above the mask had been cold and judging, dull and passive. Bored.

Now they were ablaze with a scalding hate few had seen before.

Those who had been on Crait had glimpsed it. But now the Supreme Leader was a wall of flame that made the air in each room he entered spark with rage.

He caught glimpses of himself in the chrome paneling dotting the walls of the armory. His hair was still limp and matted from the bacta. His face was chilling in its emptiness.

If he had returned from the dead, it looked as if death had claimed half of him in the process. He was a phantom once more, and every step he took was filled with wrath.

That wrath did not calm as he was escorted into his meetings.

Various leaders of different divisions within the First Order were paraded before the Supreme Leader’s throne, and each of them had a particular rhythm to their presentations. First, they would express their fondest delight at his safe return. Then, they would brag about their accomplishments (usually something minor) to disguise the more critical issues they were currently mishandling, which would be slipped in with a casualness meant to undermine their severity.

At which point the Supreme Leader would offer semi-sincere praise before asking pointed questions that would gradually grow more accusatory until he would outright berate the officers until they shuffled out of the room fretfully with a large to-do list but their limbs fully intact.

These sporadic outbursts weren’t enough to temper the fiery rage flaring up within him.

After several hours of this, he was granted a momentary break, which he seized, storming off into the belly of the Super Star Destroyer, his left leg still experiencing a phantom ache, the memory of the pain it had once contained.

Hux was back on his tail in moments, shouting frustrated admonitions at his Supreme Leader’s back.  
“I was not away long,” Kylo boomed, trying not to think of the reality that those long days spent in the cabin, his time with Rey, really only comprised a few scant days.

“I assumed you could maintain the galaxy in that time.”  
  
“Your departure was abrupt, Supreme Leader. It is necessary to remain informed of the occurrences during your disappearance. Many divisions assumed the worst and were scrambling to make sure that without a leader—”  
  
“What sort of oversight does the First Order have if there is that much floundering in my absence,” he intoned, never breaking his stride so Hux had to race to keep up with him.

He didn’t know where he was going, so he strode determinedly in the direction of the private turbolift that would take him back to the residential deck containing his quarters. The rooms  were always cold and lifeless. He hoped the sterile nature of his room might be what he needed to cool his ever-rising temper, which was stoked with every encounter with his officers.  
  
Didn’t they see how pointless it was for him to be here? Couldn’t they just let him _go_?

 _You picked it, Supreme Leader,_ a cloying thought cut in from the back of his mind. _You wanted this._

_Right?_

Kylo had ignored Hux’s response. It was probably not important.

“Supreme Leader, I insist,” Hux continued as they stepped into the turbolift. “This is a necessary step to reinforce the chain of command that was disrupted following the battle. Might I remind you that we had to regroup rapidly after the loss over Takodana, and that has stretched our resources thin in several sectors.”

There was a simultaneous benefit and disadvantage in having of not having a full mask; Hux could see the pointed droll glare cast in his direction.  
  
But this is the part he must play.  
  
“I require exercise. My limbs are still stiff from the bacta. You may occupy my time for two hours more and then I require solitude.”  
  
“With all due respect, _my Lord,_ what you require is no longer relevant!” Hux spat, his pasty face reddening. “You are the Supreme Leader of the First Order, you must be _more_ than the pathetic excuse for a man that you are.”  
  
Hux had, of course, picked the wrong day to pluck that particular nerve, and he was greeted with invisible fists tightening around his windpipe within seconds.  
  
“How _dare_ you speak to me like that,” Kylo hissed, bringing Hux’s face closer. “You dare condescend to _me_ , when you have faced no greater ordeal in the past two weeks than your tea being too hot for your delicate tongue!”

Kylo had no intention of being gentle. The rage, thick and simmering in his veins, had only been incensed by his dream the night before, and the Darkness seemed to be the only distraction he could find from the painful drudgery of the First Order, or the keen sting of memory. However, as he watched the color changing in Hux’s face, he knew that his point had to be wrapped up shortly, or else Hux would not be conscious to hear it.

“I will throw your pitiful ass from the upper atmosphere and see how much of a man you really are. You stick to the meetings. I still need my rest.”

He flung Hux aside, then walked to where the man had slumped over like a rag doll.

“Did I make myself clear?”

The general coughed and sputtered from his pile on the floor, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. The glare that he leveled at his lord and master was nothing short of venomous.

“Crystal…Supreme Leader…” he wheezed.

“Excellent,” Kylo said, straightening. “Then I think I am prepared to return to my afternoon meetings. Shall we?”  
  
  


There were few sounds in the Super Star Destroyer more pleasing to Ben's ears than the rush of the door closing behind him in his chambers as he was left alone for the night. He clawed the mask off immediately, tossing it onto his bed.  
  
His head was pounding. Maybe it was the bacta, he lied to himself. The bacta and the meetings.  
  
He didn’t let himself think of the dream or of the regret that had bound him petrified to his bed the previous day.  
  
_Rest_ , he chided himself. _You need rest._  
  
He appreciated his own joke. The idea that he would be able to coerce himself to sleep again was laughable, but at least it sounded like a better plan than anything Hux could invent for him.  
  
Dragging himself over to the ‘fresher in his chambers, he stripped down and turned on the water in the shower.  
  
He avoided looking at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t face his reflection.  
  
He knew the large scars were still there, the ones splitting his face and side, breaking the large pale expanses of skin. He didn’t want to see what wasn’t. The absences—Rey’s touch, his broken ribs, the little scars on his chest, given to him by his Knights—they were too painful.  
  
He stepped into the shower. The water was probably too hot to be therapeutic, but the heat...it reminded him of those long, slow days in the cabin, when there was no relief from the humidity in the air.  
  
It reminded him of the heat of Rey’s bare body moving in a giddy rhythm over his, the exquisite sweat forming between them.

He tilted his chin up and let the water run through his tangled, dirty hair, along his jaw, freshly shaved that morning. Down his neck, over the small bump on his collarbone. Over his chest, now flushing pink where the scorching water battered his skin. Over his hips and now stable legs to his feet, slipping down the drain...  
  
_I was loved once_ , he thought bitterly.  
  
This body, this man. This shattered spirit.  
  
_I was loved once._ __  
__  
_And what did you do then?_  
  
I ran.

 _And why did you come back here?_  
  
_I...I don’t know._  
_  
_        You don’t know?

Snoke’s voice had been silenced the moment Kylo had called Rey’s saber to her hand. Now, it was his own voice, low and full of wrath, reminding him of his own flaws.  
  
_No, I—_ __  
__  
_You know exactly why._  
  
_I—_ __  
__  
_Say it._  
  
_I WAS SCARED, ALRIGHT? I didn’t know where to go._ __  
__  
_So you came crawling back here, to the only thing you’ve ever known. A prison of your own making._ __  
__  
_You must love misery more than you love her._ __  
__  
_Coward._  
  
The accusing tone in his mind...it was the voice Snoke had cultivated within him. A sneering, hateful voice, commanding and cruel. Kylo Ren. Always Kylo Ren taunting him. He wasn't safe from the monster, even in his own head.  
  
His knees began to buckle. He braced his arm against the dark tile of the shower.  
  
He tried reaching for her again. That eerie silence made his head pound even harder.  
  
        _See? You had your chance. She was right there. You had her in your arms._ __  
__  
_But y_ _ou ran. And now she’s gone._ __  
__  
_You can’t undo this._ __  
__  
_You’ll never find her again._ __  
__  
_I hope you enjoyed those meetings, Lord Ren. That’s all you have now._ __  
__  
_You have a galaxy, remember?_ __  
  
It had been so long, but it was blind instinct at this point.  
  
He raised his left fist in the air and brought it down on his side, over the tender knot of scars where Uncle Chewie’s bowcaster blast had landed.

Again. Again.  
  
At first he didn’t feel anything. Maybe that was also the bacta, working deep on old wounds. But he pounded again and again until the searing pain returned, and with a gasp of anguish he felt the Darkness in him swell.  
  
Again, again.  
  
He couldn’t tell if he was crying. The water in his eyes was so thick.  
  
Again, again.  
  
He was panting from the pain. Throughout the Star Destroyer, he could feel the signatures of the officers and troopers, hear conversations not meant for him. Long tendrils of the Force reached out in repeated flares of raw power but never did they bring back comfort.  
  
Again, again.

On Canto Bight, he had felt her. His power surge let him feel her warmth. She was in the next room, but she felt so close, so gentle and reassuring, and knowing she was near made the pain and hatred go away.

Again.  
  
He remembered Rey’s hands on his sides, even if he couldn’t feel them. The delicate way she had smoothed down the bacta patches. She was so careful, so thoughtful. Her fingers danced along his back and shoulders as she bandaged his arm to support his clavicle.  
  
He raised his fist one more time, and a memory came flooding back.  
  
The first time she had washed him, tried to remove the grime caked to his skin from long, hot days in the cabin.  
  
He had flinched when she’d touched him, and she had tried to calm him.  
  
He had yanked his own hair in punishment for his outburst, his weakness.  
  
She had gently placed her hand on his.  
  
_Hey, hey,_ she’d whispered. _None of that._  
  
His heart hammered in his chest. She wouldn’t have wanted him to do this.

 _Don’t rebreak yourself while I’m gone._  
  
She would have forgiven him. Or if not, she wouldn’t have accepted self-flagellation as the appropriate punishment.  
  
_Rey would want you to love yourself,_ he thought. It was his own voice now.  _She loved you. Accepted you. Wanted you. You don’t need to punish yourself._  
  
He almost thought he could hear her influence in that last little thought.  
  
He let his fist relax, and he took a deep breath.  
  
He remembered her palms pressed against his healing ribs, letting his sacred breaths fill her hands as he inhaled deeply and his chest rose to meet her.

He remembered those gentle fingers, small and deft, tracing down his rib cage.  
  
Tucking his shirt into the bandages that crossed his upper torso.  
  
Running along the planes of his stomach, trailing downward, downward.  
  
_I love you_.  
  
He moved his own hand down to his waist.  
  
He wrapped it around his cock, and sighed, exhaling out the weight of his burdens.  
  
_I love you_.  
  
He began to move his hand slowly, letting a rhythm build.  
  
For a moment he was transported away. Back to the cabin, the cave, Rey’s arms.  
  
He braced himself against the tile, his hand moving faster, his vision blurring again, but this time with bliss.  
  
_I was loved once._  
  
He remembered her touch, so foreign, but so calming. Healing.  
  
_And can be so again._  
  
_You can still find her._  
  
_You can give this all up in a heartbeat._  
  
_Don’t give up._  
  
_Find her._  
  
_Find her._  
  
He panted, almost letting himself smile, his thumb teasing the head of his cock.  
  
He let himself think of her joyfully. Thinking of her bounding exuberantly into the cabin in the rain, her curled asleep at his side, Rey on the speeder racing through the forest, letting little cracks of light in through the walls of Darkness he had erected to keep away the guilt and rage.  
  
He let himself think of her luridly. He entrusted his memory to guide him through her body again. Against the cave wall, against the rock, pupils blown wide. He let his body, too, savor these memories, let the pleasure come where only pain would dwell.

He let himself think of her lovingly. Playful kisses, her fingers carding through his hair. A symphony of smiles, all for him. And a smile of his own for her, only her.

She was worth more than a throne. More than the whole galaxy.  
  
He let himself feel. He let himself think of her, and laugh.  
  
_She’s worth fighting for._

 

  
When he got out of the ‘fresher, he dried off and slipped into a pair of pants and an undershirt. It was his usual workout attire, yet he did not intend to run his exercise routine. He was exhausted, but was not ready to face whatever tossing and turning and nightmares were awaiting him. He called Rey's staff to his hand from where it had fallen by the side of his bed. He eyed it carefully, examining every little notch of scrap metal, every piece of fabric she had wound around it. It was patched together by determination and need, but still rugged and powerful and strangely elegant. The perfect symbol of Rey.

He fretfully reached underneath a loose piece of fabric and and withdrew the small scrap of paper that he had hidden there. It had evaded discovery, he thought with relief. He'd managed to keep these parts of her, odd little gifts from a world only the two of them knew. They were precious to him, and as he held the crumpled scrap of paper, he could almost see a flicker of light coming from it, feel the warmth of her flying through the words. He kissed the note and tucked it carefully back into the wrappings. He couldn’t lose it.

 

Meditation was the first thing he learned when he came to Luke’s Jedi academy. He had been able to use the Force already before that point, but not with any particular intent, as his mother reminded him when he protested that he did not need to go “learn the Force.”  
  
“You have an amazing ability, Ben,” Leia had said softly, soothingly. “It is a gift. But you need to learn how to control it.”  
  
Behind her gentle smile, he knew she was thinking of the days she had returned to her apartment from intergalactic senate meetings to find the place a wreck. Lately every time she went away, Ben’s latest Force-fit would claim another piece of furniture. She had come home in the middle of the last one. It almost drew blood. That’s when she had contacted Luke.

No sooner had Ben arrived to the temple and put his meager bag of possessions on his bed than Luke had whisked him to a dark, silent meditation room. He taught his nephew to sit with his legs crossed and his feet tucked in, and his hands hands resting on his knees. When he got himself settled, Luke instructed him to close his eyes.  
  
He did.  
  
And he sat in silence for a moment before his eyes snapped back open.  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
“Yes, that’s it. Your mother sent you across the galaxy so you'd learn to sit still for a change,” Luke droned, opening his eyes just to roll them.

“No, Ben. You’re going to learn the Force. You’re going to be able to feel it, understand it, use it-”  
  
“I can already feel it!”  
  
“Good for you, kid. Real impressed. But you’ve got a long way to go before you can say you have any sort of mastery of it. Which is why you’re _here_ .”  
  
Ben glared, but said nothing.  
  
“Eyes shut, Ben,” Luke said, rising to his feet. “We’re going to make you a Jedi yet.”  
  
Luke had guided Ben through this first meditation, teaching him to reach out with his feelings, building an awareness of the Force. The early lessons were like these, long, languid afternoons sitting in the golden sunlight and exploring what his basic senses couldn’t perceive. Though Ben grew stiff and bored easily, he found he could control the Force quickly. Far quicker than Luke had expected, anyway.  
  
At first, the meditation sessions were simply tedious, and it took Ben’s mind constant effort to return to the Force when he was really focused on the engine composition of a speeder he had been fiddling with back on Chandrila. Occasionally he would drift to sleep, only to be woken by the smack of a reed on his wrist as Luke jolted him from his slumber.

  
After Luke was satisfied that Ben could keep his mind on track for more than a few minutes at a time without constant supervision, he instructed his nephew to meditate alone daily. Without Luke’s presence helping him navigate the Force, it didn’t take long for the restful afternoons to turn grim.  
  
It was barely noticeable at first. He thought he had fallen asleep again. He felt himself experiencing the beginning of one of his nightmares, and he’d try to jerk awake to escape them.  
  
But he could not wake. And the visions, many with a familiar sinister, scarred face leering at him, would not end.  
  
This went on for years. He grew to hate meditation. His skin crawled at the thought of it, and he felt a disembodied sense of terror every time he would even assume the Lotus pose. Luke, regardless, would invite him to teach the new students how it was done, and Ben would seek out every excuse to avoid it.  
  
But then the temple was no more, and Ben found he couldn’t meditate. Even with Snoke close, he felt an uncertainty, an all-consuming sense of dread. Every time he’d close his eyes, he would see the flash of his uncle’s saber igniting above his bed, and Ben, young Kylo Ren, would cry out in terror, waiting for the blade to fall.  
  
So Snoke gave him a present, an idol, an object of worship: Vader’s melted helmet. It became his new locus, the new center to which all his thoughts should flow. Instead of feeling the Force, he was to feel the Darkness, to seek out the encouragement of Lord Vader.  
  
His mind would not wander any longer, and there were no nightmares, but his thoughts were not safe. His mind was not his own; Snoke would still interfere, coaching him into embracing his Dark legacy.

Once Snoke was gone and he was alone with his thoughts, he had tried to meditate again. He would stand still, legs shoulder-width apart, and try to remember what Luke had taught him about using the Force to center his mind. And maybe it worked. But his mind was often too turbulent.  
  
Now, however, he needed to focus. For Rey.  
  
He had tried the day before. He had sought to recenter himself. Instead, he destroyed the room in anger as he had so many rooms as a child.  
  
Now he took a seat against the wall, mindful that his back not be left exposed, folding his legs into the familiar pose. He had seen Rey sit like this in the cabin, meditating while he slept nearby. He placed her staff across his lap. It was all he could do to feel that connection that had once bound them together.  
  
He took a deep breath, and he reached for her. He felt the part of his mind that was connected to her, and this time, instead of tugging, he gently touched the threads of their connection and followed them wherever they lead. He felt for impressions of her on Jakku, Canto Bight, Takodana. He found the radiant things she had touched, her impressions luminous in the Force. He sought out anything that felt like her, any sounds that reminded him of his voice. He could only find the weakest sensations that reminded him of her. All that was left was on Takodana.  


His eyes snapped open after what felt like ages, and he called over his datapad, punching in for the latest signs of Resistance activity.

All had been chaos after the battle of Takodana. The First Order had been too busy recovering its losses and licking its wounds to get much of a clear report on where the Resistance had fled after the ambush. There were loose reports, vague sightings, black market rumors. Nothing that could help him find Rey.  
  
He almost dashed the wretched piece of technology on the floor, but he took a deep breath.

It would not be easy, but it would not be impossible.

He just couldn’t give up.

Setting the datapad on the floor carefully, he turned to the wall behind him.

An idea occurred, one from a borrowed memory.

Taking the metal tip of Rey’s staff, he remembered small, callused fingers pressing a sharp object into a rusted hull and scratching at the surface, over and over and over again.

The motion was familiar to his hands, a borrowed sensation. He brushed away the small shards of debris from the corner, and admired his handiwork.

One lone, thin tally, scratched near the base of the wall.

His vigil had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing this shit off a Shakespeare play, and since Shakespeare can make dick jokes and get them considered high art, so can my moody shower wank. 
> 
> Also theLadyoftheHouse is back in the houseee. As Hux.
> 
> I know, yikes. I feel bad doing that to her but SOMEONE had to do it.
> 
>   
> [A million thanks to Nadia for illustrating this chapter. This hurts my soul in ways I probably deserve.](https://twitter.com/nad_vaa/status/1111402441147219968)  
>  
> 
> PS: Happy one year to Conceal Me What I Am! I started writing it on this day last year as a Google doc on my phone. And I continued because TheLady wanted to hear more.
> 
> We have come so far. Now I use a tablet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please. Tell me anything."

I, most jocund, apt and willingly,  
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

        Twelfth Night, or What You Will, V.I

* * *

 

As the door slid open, the sound of heavy footsteps filled the small room. The automatic lights rose suddenly, jarring Rey out of her stupor.

Poe Dameron was not a particularly tall man, but he seemed to tower over her when he spoke.

"We want to make this as easy and painless as possible for all of us, Rey," he said. His rage had likely burnt itself out hours ago, leaving him exhausted, preemptively worn out by their discussion. Maybe it was regular exhaustion. Time vanishes when you're trapped in an interrogation room, Rey reflected, and she had lost track of how long they’d kept her in that chamber.

“So you're going to tell us everything you know about the Supreme Leader, and we'll make this nightmare stop."

She rotated her wrists in her binders. She tried to ignore the sickening emptiness that she felt radiating through her veins. Her fingertips felt numb. Her very bones felt numb. And she couldn't...feel anything. The Force, normally so vibrant and humming with constant music in her mind, was utterly, hideously silent.

Two things had happened in very quick succession when they had clamped the Force-dampening binders onto her wrists. First, Rey screamed. The shock of having the bond with Ben so suddenly and thoroughly shattered was so great that it was physically painful. As if someone had pulled her heart out of her chest with their bare hands. Then, when the pain became too much and the overwhelming silence that followed in its wake became profound enough that she thought she had gone deaf, she lost consciousness. When she awoke in the interrogation room on base a short while later, she had vomited into the nearest rubbish bin. It hadn't helped the vertigo and seasick feeling that had roiled through her for the next several hours while she awaited her fate, although the cool durasteel of the table against her feverish face felt decidedly better than nothing.

She exhaled a steady sigh, trying to swallow down her nausea.

"I don't know how many times I have to repeat myself, Poe," she said wearily. "Kylo Ren is dead.  _ You _ shot him down." She pressed her heavy hands into her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.

" _ You _ did it.  _ You're _ the hero. What more do you want."

Poe ran his hands through his hair, sighing deeply.

"I just want the truth. I think we can both agree to stop playing this game now," he said, an edge of irritation in his tone. "Kylo Ren's ship definitely crashed. You must have recovered him before the recon team got to his ship. Where did you take him?"

"I hid him in my closet and fed him on scraps from my dinner, like a little stray loth-cat," she deadpanned. "How in all the hells do you think I managed to get all of  _ that _ out of a burning ship?"

He snorted a bitter laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest. "See? You're clever. Resourceful. I've seen you lift hundreds of rocks, Rey. I know you found a way. The question is  _ how _ ."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Careful, Poe, that almost sounded like a compliment. Besides I'd much rather hear your theory!" She smiled tightly.

"Oh, please. I'm not the one with the big imagination here,” he growled. “You're the one who keeps playing these little make-believe games."

He started pacing.

"And yet you're having such fun jumping to conclusions."

"At least one of us is having fun. How did you keep Kylo Ren hidden from the Resistance?"

"I have a very large closet."

He suddenly pivoted and slammed a fist on the table. She jumped.

"Stop it!" He leveled a withering glare at her. "I don't know how dumb you think I am, but I know you. You were my  _ friend _ . I like to think I've earned a bit more of your respect than this."

She flinched at the past tense.

“Respect?” She brandished her cuffs at him. “Is this what respect looks like? It’s a two-way lane, Poe.”

He merely glared at her. There were no more two ways about it. They both knew that.

She sat back, exhausted and frustrated. “I keep telling you: Kylo Ren is dead.” She looked back up at him, eyes pleading. “It’s the truth, I swear it. Kylo Ren is dead.”

Poe strode out of the room, returning a moment later with a datapad.

"I’d hoped you were right, too."

The screen flashed furiously, text and images, commentary and facts racing one after the other.

A familiar mask flashed over the screen.

The First Order had hurriedly created a holo announcement, proudly declaring the glorious return of their Supreme Leader.

Rey felt dizzy. With relief? With panic? With despair? All of them.

He’d gotten away.

But now he was too far for her to reach.

She dragged the datapad closer with shaking fingers, her eyes darting over every readout.

Returned. Strong as ever. Will of iron. Unstoppable.

It was her Ben, and not. But he was  _ alive _ . He had gotten away. And that was what mattered to her. Even...

Even if she never saw him again.

Everything else dissolved. The lies, the facade, the months of untruths and deliberate misdirections, it all dissipated with the last shred of Rey’s panic. All settling into dusty emptiness inside her.

She slumped back in her seat again, her face blank, her eyes glazed over and unfocused on the opposite wall, every muscle finally stilled.

The harsh red glare of the First Order's announcement seemed to reflect off Poe’s jaw as he leaned in towards her, eyes narrowed.

"Now that we know Kylo Ren is still alive, you're going to tell me how he lived for so long here."

Her eyes continued to stare blankly ahead at the bare wall of the room.

_ I saved Ben, _ she thought softly.  _ I pulled him from the wreck of Kylo Ren. I healed him. I loved him. _

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, there was no one in her mind to hear her. 

The room was soundless. Though his face was schooled into a calm mask, Poe was growing impatient.

"Now, far be it for me to doubt a Jedi, but either your Force senses were a little off when we asked you last if he was alive, or you have spent every moment since I landed here lying to my face. Which is it?"

He knew the answer in his heart. But he wanted to trust her. He wanted to think this was all a mistake. 

She hadn’t known. She was manipulated. 

He knew better, but this is one of the rare occasions when he hoped he was wrong.

_ It wasn’t all lies. I even told you the truth when I could. I tried to do what was right, Poe. Our definitions of the word just differ a little bit. I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to lie. It killed me. _

_ But I’d do it again for him _ .

As the seconds ticked away and no words fell from Rey's paralyzed lips, his stomach churned. He was angry, of course, but more powerful than his mood was the sting of her betrayal. It was pain he had experienced numerous times before. It never grew easier. It wormed its way through your guts and into your memories, devouring or tainting everything it touched.

He had been so happy since he returned after the battle, surrounded by the comfort and relief of his friends, by the death of the specter haunting the galaxy. 

He never wanted to believe Rey capable of this. He had nothing left to believe.

Even without the Force, she could sense the pain and barely contained rage rolling off of him in miasmic waves. Even so, did not stir.

_ I’m sorry, Poe. You’re a good man. I never wanted to hurt you. Any of you. _

The other night whirled through his mind like wind in a blizzard, cutting and swift. Flashes of Rey crying, sitting beside him, assuring him it was in his head, all in his head. And he wanted her to be right. But there was something else in his head, too, something that had lived there far longer, a terror that haunted him, that chased him through the galaxy. Now his worst fears were proven right.

Rey seemed stricken. There was nothing she could say now that would reassure him. Part of him didn't want to know the truth; he had fortified his mind against the bleak imaginings of what she knew. Of the reality of Kylo Ren. Of what it meant for him to be alive. For her to have known.

He didn't let himself think of what he had done to her to make her like this. Maybe she had been under a trance after all. Maybe that's why she was so lost.

His tone softened.

"Please. Tell me anything."   
  
Her eyes flicked back down to the datapad in front of her. To the image of the Supreme Leader. That mask, more muzzle than anything, couldn’t hide his eyes. Ben’s eyes. Dark and deep and, not so long ago, full of love for her.

He was changing. He  _ had _ changed. There was good in him, Light in him that couldn’t be extinguished. Light that she had coaxed into blazing with kindness and no small modicum of stubbornness. He only needed to be given the chance. He needed someone to believe in him, to trust him.

She looked back up at Poe, it made her heart pang to see the anguish on his face. He was a good man, he deserved something.

“I trust Ben Solo,” she said quietly, solemnly. “You have to believe me when I say that, Poe. I  _ trust _ Ben Solo.”

Poe's eyes grew large, and he stiffened. The name was haunting, more haunting than the name of the Supreme Leader. He turned his gaze back to the dark wall behind him. He knew General Organa sat behind the glass observing the interrogation. He tried to search where he thought her eyes would be.

He turned back to Rey. "What did you say?"

She took a deep breath.

“I trust Ben Solo,” she repeated, her voice strong despite the heaviness in her bones.

"Ben Solo.  _ Ben Solo _ ?" The name was kindling. Rey couldn't know the fire she had stoked. Ben had been on the General’s mind from the moment he had joined the Resistance.   


As she discussed her plans for the Resistance with him, she couldn’t help but mention her son. She wanted him by her side because (among other reasons) he was a capable pilot, flying practically since he could walk, and she was certain even Poe would be amazed by his flying ability. However, the woman noted that he was supposed to be training to be a Jedi with her brother, and she was starting to worry that she hadn’t heard from either of them in a long time…

He remembered the day Leia discovered that Kylo Ren was the boy she had lost. The fire that he had first witness in her dimmed, only to come back stronger, hotter, stoked with more pain than he could imagine. He knew the anguish it caused her every day to remember that her son lived, yet stood in opposition to everything she cared for. He knew Leia was looking on now, hearing Rey rip up the trauma she’d probably prefer to forget. He felt his anger rising again.

“There’s good in him, Poe, I felt it. I  _ know _ it. Please, you have to believe me.”

Poe braced himself against the table.

"Believe you? You spoke to Kylo Ren—harbored him somewhere on this planet—and you did not tell us. Why should I believe your assessment of a Sith Lord’s character?”

She huffed a sardonic laugh.

“If Kylo Ren was a Sith Lord,” she said dryly, remembering a long-ago argument with the man in question, “I wouldn’t have kept him alive unless I had a more creative method of killing him in my back pocket.”

She leaned forward, her gaze intense and resolve steely.

“And if I had said something, brought him back to base, what would have been done, hm? Do you honestly think that anyone would’ve followed protocol and set him up in a bed in the infirmary to await trial? No. They would have murdered Ben Solo where he stood without a second thought.”

She sat back again.

“And how would you have explained that to Leia?"

Poe’s emotions, fraught with exhaustion and disappointment and anger, bubbled over at the invocation of the older woman, and something in him snapped.

"Don't you  _ dare _ bring the General into this! You think you can just invoke her family like that to justify what you've done?"

“I will not hand her son over to his death while she still has hope for him. She is  _ his _ mother, Poe, not yours!”

" _ There is no hope for him! _ " Poe shouted, his face inches from hers. "The only hope you should have is that he dies soon, taking the First Order down with him!"

Rey didn’t flinch, and her answering stare was pure ice.

“For a leader of an organization founded on hope and the ideals that everyone deserves a chance, you have very little faith, Poe,” she said, her voice low and frighteningly even. “What about Finn? He was First Order, brainwashed from childhood to follow their orders, and yet you didn’t hesitate to trust him. You saw the good in him, why can’t you believe that there could be good in the heart of Ben Solo?”

"Because  _ Kylo Ren _ has been in my head," Poe hissed. "You might be able to forget what that feels like to have your mind cracked open like an egg, but I  _ can't _ . You don’t know what it felt like to be trapped in that base on Crait, waiting for your own death at the hands of the First Order, but I do. Finn saved my life. Kylo Ren tried to end it. You might be able to see the light in a man who killed his own father, but you're alone in that. I guarantee you."

She was quiet for a long moment, her expression grim.

“I won’t deny what he has done, I’m not that naive. And I don’t think I will ever forgive him for what he did to Han. But I know there is still good in Ben Solo because I’ve seen it. I felt it. And Han did too. He went out onto that bridge to bring his son back because he believed that there was still Light in him.”

She looked back up at Poe with determination blazing behind her eyes. “I am  _ not _ alone.”

"Why does he matter so much to you?" Poe asked, his tone passionless at last. "Why are you so desperate to see the good in a man hell-bent on murdering you and everyone you care about? I just can't understand it."

Something in her seemed to deflate, and she slumped back in the hard chair as she gathered her thoughts, the secrets she'd never told another soul.

“We’re...connected, Ben and I,” she said softly. “At some point in all this madness, the Force...created a tether between our minds. A bond. We can read each other’s thoughts, see memories, learn things. That’s how I know that there’s good in him. I’ve seen it inside him.”

She eyed her interrogator with weary resolve, challenging him to believe it.

“I know it sounds mad, I didn’t believe it at first, and honestly I don’t expect you to believe it either. But I swear that it’s the truth, Poe. For what little that means coming from me now.”

Poe sighed, then began to pace again.

"So the Force has...connected you two. I didn't think the Force could do that, but let's say it can. When did this connection start between you?"

"Since Starkiller."

"Since Starkiller?" Poe asked, incredulous. "Rey, that's over a year and a half ago. Are you telling me you've been having private contact with the Supreme Leader for almost two years without telling anyone?"

"It's not as if it was constant contact," she said quickly. "The Force is capricious and temperamental and has a wretched sense of timing. But...yes. I've been in his mind. And he's been in mine."

"You let him into your head?" Poe stopped pacing and gaped at her. He could imagine nothing more nightmarish. And yet everything seemed to click into place. The Rey he knew, his friend, was still in there. She could still be saved.

"So whatever Kylo Ren did when he got in your mind made you believe that he was truly good, made you feel empathy for him. You wanted to save him. He made you betray the Resistance."

"What? No! No, it's not like that!" she protested.

It was a story he had heard many times as a child in many different versions; a slick-tongued beast convincing an innocent, young child to follow it into the darkness, adopting a kindly facade while it promised sweets and treasures to lead the trusting child astray. Rey was powerful and smart, he knew, but she was naive, and he could imagine how the Supreme Leader could easily use his weakness to earn her trust once he slipped into her thoughts. Poe knelt beside Rey's chair suddenly, his tone alarmingly gentle, his expression beseeching.

"Did he hurt you?” he whispered quickly, assuredly. “You can tell me, Rey. Whatever he did to you, we won't let it happen again."

He scanned Rey for a second. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed, but as his eyes traced down her jaw, he could see faint coloring along her neck. 

"You don't have to defend him anymore,” he crooned, trying to quelch the protective swell of emotion in his throat. “You can tell us what he did to you. We won't hold it against you."

He reached over and began to brush the hair out of the way, seeing with sudden horror the bruises dotting her skin.    


She tried to move away from the scrutiny, but Poe's hands tightened on her shoulders and his eyes were fixed on her neck and collarbone.

"What he did—what are you talking about? He didn't hurt me, let go of me!"

Poe lessened his grip, but his eyes when they met hers were furious.

"Don't feel embarrassed, Rey. I understand if you're scared to tell me, but you're free from the Force right now. He can't get into your mind. If he so much as laid a finger on you, you can tell any one of us and we'll blast him into the next—”

" _ He didn't hurt me! _ " Angry tears burned in the corners of her eyes. "Please, listen to me!"

Poe backed away, rising to his feet slowly. "Rey, it’s okay. You’re in shock. I know how it feels to have him in your mind. It's...it's terrifying. It's painful. But it's alright now. We’ll protect you. You have nothing to fear from us.” 

" _ HE NEVER HURT ME! _ " she screamed, flying to her feet. "HE LOVED ME!"

The chair behind her flew into the wall with a deafening clang and the table groaned as she gasped for air. The fury ricocheting through her bloodstream burned at the heels of that horrible, sickening numbness.

Poe’s head followed the chair, but then snapped back to stare at her. He stood frozen, stunned. In his worst fantasies, he could never have imagined this.

"That's not possible, Rey," he whispers, trying to reassure himself more than anything, trying not to think about what else those bruises on her neck could be from. "He's a murderer. A monster. He can't love. He preyed on you and made you believe that to get you to let him live."

"No you're wrong!" she sobbed, the tears now running hot down her face. "He loves me! He loves me..."

The very room seemed to be vibrating, her lungs screaming with the effort it took to fill them in the face of her anguish. Emptiness and rage and grief warred inside her and she feared that she would disintegrate from the madness roiling within.

_ Ben please, my love, can you hear me? _ she cried out into the void between them.  _ Ben! _

"Rey, please, calm down," Poe's voice was authoritative in his attempt to be soothing as he came around the table, gripping her shoulders again.

"It's alright. Kylo Ren used the Force to get into your mind and control you. He can’t touch you anymore. We’re going to stop him from hurting anyone else. You just need to tell us what you know about him. Please, Rey. You can trust us."

"Why won't you listen to me! He  _ didn't _ hurt me! He would  _ never _ hurt me! We—we were going to run away, he was going to give me his name!" she howled. "You don’t want to help me!  _ Stop lying! _ "

The doors burst open and two guards shouldered their way in. One grabbed her around her waist and arms with an iron grip as she bucked and thrashed.

"Get off of me, let me go!" Her eyes were wild and flashing between the loose tendrils of her hair. She looked madly around for something, anything. "Ben!  _ BEN! _ "

Rey could see Leia in the open doorway, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Rey wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that her son was alive and loved and safe when she felt a sharp jab in her upper arm and the burly human at her back abruptly released her. She made to swing at them, but she swayed on her feet instead.

"I wasn't finished with her!" Poe bellowed from a great ways off.

"...needed to sedate her...General's orders...danger...herself and others..." she vaguely heard through an ocean of dark water.

Every cell in her body became heavy as a stone and she could have sworn she felt a warm hand brush her cheek and a deep voice murmuring tenderly in her ear as she lost control of her body. The ground rushed up to meet her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing CMWIA a year ago: "No one's going to want to read this. It's too fluffy."
> 
> I actually thought my writing was "too fluffy."
> 
>  
> 
> Delusion is a river in Egypt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Think whatever you want about me. But there is still good in Ben Solo."

The world was blackness, an impenetrable haze that lasted for days at a time. She would awaken, she would struggle, and within moments she would be asleep again.

She did not remember what she saw in those scarce moments awake. She glimpsed but ultimately couldn't remember the sterile medical facility where the Force-dampening binders latched her to the bed. She didn’t remember the tubes plugged into her to keep her hydrated and nourished.

She did not dream.

Perhaps that was a mercy.

When she awakened, she found herself on a cot in a dark cave, surrounded by stone and dust.

Jakku. They had taken her back.

Her mind was still foggy, and her limbs weak from disuse, but she jerked herself upright and stumbled forward to what appeared to be the door to this room.

Everything around her was both familiar and strange. Sand scratched under her bare feet as she shuffled along. She tripped on the uneven ground and caught herself on the wall with a painful jolt to her shoulder. Her arms were shaking under the weight of the cuffs encircling each wrist, the bar that had connected them once before now retracted.

She tried to breathe through the anxiety clouding her mind. It wasn’t working.

 _...Ben?_ she whimpered across the tattered thread between their minds.

Silence. Empty and numb.

There was no Force to connect them. There was nothing left.

The droids that entered the room moments later were just as silent, the only sounds in the chamber the whirring of servos. She did not ask where they were taking her as each droid attached itself to one of the manacles and led her through a series of hallways at a lumbering pace. The walls around her were familiar, almost: tunnels of dirt and sand.

Was this Jakku? It was cooler, somehow. Cool and dark. The chill snaked up her bare legs with every step.

The droids released her in a small room, with one wall a large pane of black glass. There was nothing but a chair before her. A familiar setup.

"Have a seat," an unseen voice commanded with a tone of blank efficiency.

She looked around with bleary eyes.

"Where...where am I?" she croaked, her voice rough from disuse and screaming.

"We apologize, Rey; while you were unconscious, we had to complete the evacuation of Takodana."

The voice seemed hesitant as if it did not want Rey to know more than was necessary.

She shivered in her seat, the cold, stony air around her seeping through the thin linen of her shift.

"Please, I'm confused, I don't know where I am." Her words shook, tears starting to blossom in the corners of her eyes. "Is this...is this Jakku? Please..." Her voice broke.

"No," the voice said quickly. "This is not Jakku. You are in the custody of the Resistance. We are at a new base."

There is a pause.

"You are accused of treason for conducting private counsel with an enemy of the Resistance, as well as harboring and aiding Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, who managed to escape from a Resistance-occupied world. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

She exhaled a long sigh of relief. Anywhere was better than Jakku. She was still disoriented, but it gave her some comfort to know that they hadn't taken her back to that graveyard. It steadied her breathing, reminded her of what was happening.

"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked quietly.

"Five days."

"...Why?"

Another pause.

"We needed to make sure you were stabilized for the successful evacuation of Takodana.”

"So you drugged me for _five days_?" Remembered anger bubbled up from her stomach. She swallowed it back down.

"I'd like to speak to General Organa," she said flatly, her voice steadier than it had been a moment ago.

"General Organa is not at liberty to oversee your interrogation."

“Is that what this is, then? An interrogation? Didn’t get enough out of me before you kept me in a forced coma?”

"Yes, we still require information of you." The voice was cool, controlled. Even more infuriating. “We are hoping your knowledge of the Supreme Leader can help our intelligence gain a... tactical advantage over the First Order.”

She sat back in her seat, staring at the expanse of dark glass, and shrugged as if daring the voice to go ahead.

"Now, you are believed to have aided and abetted the escape of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren from Takodana. What did you know about the Supreme Leader's activities prior to the last skirmish with the First Order?"

“Nothing.”

"Nothing. Are we to understand you had no prior personal communications with the Supreme Leader before the battle?"

“You can understand whatever you like.”

"Did you, or did you not, have prior communications of any kind with the Supreme Leader prior to—"

“And what constitutes as communication?”

"Did you have contact with the Supreme Leader following the battle of Starkiller Base?"

“Should I just let Captain Dameron answer? You seem keen on making me repeat myself,” she said archly.

"We are seeking only for clarification. What Resistance intelligence was exchanged with the Supreme Leader following the battle of Starkiller base?”

“There was no exchange of intelligence, Resistance or otherwise.”

“How often did you meet with the Supreme Leader?"

“Sorry, just seeking clarification for myself; which Supreme Leader would that be?”

She’d be damned if she ever gave them Canto Bight.

She could almost hear her interrogator sigh before speaking into the microphone again.

"The current Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren."

“Ah, thank you.” She inclined her head sardonically.

“Well, we first met during the attack on Takodana that resulted in the destruction of Maz’s Palace. He kidnapped me and held me for interrogation. I beat his ass into the snow on Starkiller. But that was well before he took the throne.”

There is a long pause.

"And what is the extent of your relationship with the Supreme Leader?"

Her expression turned stony.

“Why don’t you ask me that to my face, Captain Dameron.”

The next pause was icier.

"Captain Dameron is indisposed at the moment. We will inform him that you inquired after him. What is the extent of your relationship with Kylo Ren?"

She sat forward slowly, her gaze blazing.

“Ask. Me. To. My. Face. You _cowards_.”

"Rey, we understand your frustration, but if we are able to get the information we seek, we may be able to commute your sentence and compensate you for your time and efforts." The voice was irritatingly officious as if soothing an irrational child.

“LIAR!” she barked, lunging forward in her seat. “Compensation? A commuted sentence? You just told me that I’m being held under charges of _treason_! No matter what I say, truth or otherwise, you’ll never let me go. So STOP. LYING.”

She eased back on the metal chair, her eyes hard and cold and piercing through the two-way glass, as if she could stare right into her interrogator’s face.

“I have nothing more to say to you,” she muttered darkly. “You’ve already made your judgment. If you have any other questions,” her eyes darted fractionally to the left, to another person standing beside the stranger, “ask Captain Dameron for further clarification.”

The silence stretched on for moments before a familiar voice floated to her through the walls.

"Rey...will you at least tell me?" Finn pleaded.

Her heart sank into her stomach. Finn was her friend, her first friend. The closest thing to a brother she had. Rey could still see the pain on his dear face in the hangar bay, almost a week ago now. It broke her heart. And the hurt in his voice broke something else in her.

She bent forward, pressing her bound hands to her face so they couldn’t see her anguish.

“I’m sorry, Finn,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. It just happened. Ben...I...I love him.”

She finally looked up, her eyes swimming. “And he loves me.”

She turned an exhausted look on where her interrogator likely stood.

“There,” she said quietly. “You win. You have the information you wanted.”

"You can't mean that," Finn begged. "I was on Starkiller. Don't you remember what he did to us? I can’t forget the way he threw you against that tree. Did he use mind control, Rey? You don't have to be embarrassed. We won't think any less of you if he did. You can't help it. He's powerful."

She closed her eyes, her expression pained.

"There's good in him, Finn. I felt it. He's changing. Ben Solo is still alive and he loves me. Kylo Ren loves me. I know there is darkness in him, but there's darkness in me, in you, in everyone! Ben is...he's trying to find balance."

She sat forward again, her shackled hands coming up, pleading. "Remember, by the lake. When you and Rose and Poe came and meditated with me? And I told you about the Force being a living thing that binds and connects us all? That's what happened with me and Ben. We are meant to balance each other. The Force brought our minds together to balance each other out. He didn't brainwash me. He didn't hurt me, I swear it."

Her gaze was plaintive. "Please, Finn, you have to believe me."

The silence returned, colder again.

"I believe you," Finn said finally. "But I don't understand you."

Her breath stopped. "W-what?"

Finn's voice is hollow. "You know what he did to me. To Han. To the Resistance, and how many others in the galaxy, and you...you not only can live with that, you're defending him. You're actually protecting him."

Her head dropped into her hands again.

"...I know," she mumbled. "I am. I believe that he is changing for the better. That he is worthy of a second chance. That even Kylo Ren is worthy of love. I know...I know that you think he's a monster. And if loving him, believing in him, makes me a monster, too...then we are a matched pair."

She turned watery gray eyes to the black glass, realizing for the first time that she could see her own reflection. The haggard, exhausted face that looked back at her brought to mind another moment of soul-baring, on a cold and lonely island lightyears away. Only this time, there would be no Ben waiting for her with an outstretched hand at the end of the ordeal.

"Think whatever you want about me. But there is still good in Ben Solo."

"You know," Finn said after a moment of stillness. "They asked me to ask you if you were brainwashed. If Kylo Ren was threatening your friends. If he was torturing you, making you comply. 'Did the Supreme Leader ever coerce you to betray your friends at the threat of retaliation against them? Did he ever use the Force to manipulate you?'"

Finn hesitates. "I almost wish he had. It's easier to take than thinking you’d willingly turn your back on us."

A tear spilled down her cheek.

"Please, Finn..."

"I loved you, Rey. You had to know that. You had to know how much all of us love you," he whispered, his low voice surrounding her. "Why would you abandon us for him? Why does he mean so much to you that you would do this to us? All of us?"

"I love you all too, Finn! You're my family," she sobbed. "I never meant to hurt you. Any of you.”

She gulped at the air like a drowning woman. She was drowning, her head forced underwater by guilt and grief and pain.

“Please, you have to believe me. He was hurt and I-I couldn't let him die. It would be like cutting out the other half of my soul. What if you were going to lose Rose that way? Wouldn't you fight tooth and nail for her?"

"Don’t do this. Rose is innocent," Finn snapped. "Rose deserves to live. Kylo Ren would have her killed, too. He'd have all of us dead."

"Ben Solo deserves to live just as much! He is kind and gentle and he wants to change. He's not perfect, but he wants to be better."

The tears fell in earnest then but they could do nothing to fill the void inside her where the universe used to reside. The emptiness hurt. And Finn's cutting words hurt even more.

"He loves me, Finn. Doesn't that at least mean something? If he can love me, doesn't that mean there's even a shred of goodness in him?"

Finn was silent for a moment, then his voice returned, vacant as ever.

"What is the nature of your relationship with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren?"

Her mouth opened but no sound could come out. She was drained, reeling, her heart lying in shattered pieces in the pit of her stomach. She should have known that this would come. She had to have foreseen that her actions would have a heavy price. She could not have anticipated the pain of Finn's cold tone.

"I love him," she said, her voice a withered husk of sound. "And he loves me."

Finn's voice shook when he spoke again. "And has Kylo Ren...had Kylo Ren used your relationship to obtain intelligence about the Resistance, either through favors or coercion?"

"Never."

"Did you provide access to the craft that enabled Kylo Ren to leave the planet?"

"No."

"To what degree did you aid in the conspiracy to return the Supreme Leader to the First Order?"

"I didn't know where he was going. All I did was tell him to run."

It didn't matter anymore. There was nothing left. She was utterly raw, utterly exposed. Nothing left to hide. Whatever happened to her now...she had no one to blame but herself.

"You told him to _run_?"

"Yes."

"Why would you do that, Rey?" Finn was aghast. "Do you want him to come and kill us all? Have the First Order take their revenge?"

"I never thought he'd go back to them. He...he wanted to get out." She smiled sadly, though her eyes were vacant.

She seemed to sway in her seat, dizzy with grief. "He’d told me...told me of his dreams. We planned a future. I never thought he'd go back."

Finn became silent once more. She could tell the question that followed was unscripted.

"Why him?"

His exhaustion seemed to flood the room, then he spoke again. "Rey, you're beautiful. You're funny and kind. Why would you settle for a beast like him?"

She tried to breathe again. The ache of loss, that gnawing chasm where Ben used to be, choked the words as they left her.

“He is my equal in every way. I am the Light that rose to meet his Darkness. He is my shadow, my soulmate. He knows me in the most impossible ways, ways that people don’t know other people.”

She twined her fingers together in her lap and suddenly noticed with a stab of pain that her leather wrist cuff, and the scrap of Ben that it hid, was gone.

“We were always meant to be each other’s mirror. Destined to be in opposition. But together...together we are balanced. His broken pieces fit with mine. And he loves me in spite of it.”

Her fingers stroked sadly against the bare strip of skin where he used to be. Another tear fell, adding to the stream already coating her pale cheeks.

Finn took no pleasure in watching his friend cry. He couldn't forgive her for her betrayal but watching her fall apart before him, he could almost believe she was sorry, repenting for her misdeeds.

But he couldn't make himself forget.

"I hope his life was worth it," he whispered into the microphone. "I really hope it was. Because it might have cost you yours."

Her eyes slipped closed and she bowed her head. She was silent for a long moment.

"Finn?" she murmured.

Finn had strode to the door, but paused, and returned to stand in front of the microphone. He hit the switch.

"Yes, Rey?"

Her lip trembled and it seemed like she was looking straight into his soul through the two-way glass.

"You're a good man...and a far better friend than I ever deserved," she choked through fresh tears. "Take care of Rose. _Love_ her...as fiercely as you can. And tell her I'm sorry."

Her sobs racked the bones of her thin shoulders as she bent forward over her folded hands.

Finn's finger hovered over the microphone button, considering say something, anything to soothe her, but he withdrew his hand and stood up.

"I think she's had enough," he says to Poe and the interrogator. "Don't make her do any more today. She's cooperating."

"But we really don't have much to go on," Poe said.

"We have enough, Poe. She's a traitor, but she's not lying or hiding anymore," Finn said, eyes still locked on Rey. "You just have to keep working with her. But you’re not getting anything out of her like this."

"I agree," the Togruta interrogator added. "She has relented considerably compared to your first meeting with her on Takodana."

She laced her fingers together, her eyes following Finn's.

After a moment, Poe relented.

"If you insist, Azwe," he said, addressing the Togruta, ignoring his friend. "We'll resume again tomorrow. Finn, if you'll join us?"

Finn turned sharply for the door. "I'll think about it, man," he said, pausing in the open doorway. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."

"You've been a big help," Poe said, calling out after the man storming away.

Rey barely processed the droids who entered the room moments later, each attaching itself to one of her binders and dragging her to her feet. She went limp as they lurched forwards through the rock-hewn corridor, forcing her to shuffle forward, even though it felt as if every string holding her upright had been cut. The claustrophobia of the small interrogation room lingered like a film of dust on her skin, making every step heavy.

Soon she was back in the small, cramped quarters that served as her cell. The droids disconnected themselves from her and slid the door shut behind them, leaving her alone in the bare space.

Her legs gave out beneath her and she crumpled forward onto the sandy ground, her arms wrapping around her middle. Her exposed knees scraped against the rock but she didn’t register the sting in the wake of her grief. She also didn’t register that the guttering, wailing screams echoing in her cell were coming out of her own mouth.

_I hope his life was worth it...because it might have cost you yours..._

Finn’s words, his hurt, it rang in her ears, in the emptiness that the shell of her skin encased.

As she wept, her eyes burning from the salt and the dust, she found herself chanting Ben’s name. Begging for the comfort of his touch, his voice, his very presence in this room with her. There was no comfort for her. Even during the two hundred days without him in her mind, there had still been the barest shred of him, a sliver of that warm shadow on the other end of the universe to tell her that he was at least still alive. Now...now there was not even the sense of other life forms in her senses.

She watched blankly as a rat-like creature skittered across the opposite wall and disappeared. Even that little tuft of fur and flesh should have given off the slightest pulse of living energy.

Nothing.

She was nothing now.

She had been nothing before when she was a no-name, discarded sandrat scurrying through the corroded bowels of Jakku’s metal corpses. But then Finn and Rose and Poe and Ben...they had burst into her meaningless existence and given her a name, a life, a purpose, a family.

She knew what it was like to be something now, and it made her return to nothingness even more unbearable.

When she had at last exhausted the tears in her body, she continued to lay there, shuddering on the floor, holding herself and rocking back and forth until her sobs dissipated. Then she crawled to the nearest wall, dragging herself across the floor.

She stopped before the blank expanse of stone and dug a finger into her raw, ravaged knees.

Then she drew a single, bloody tally mark on the stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I've been feeling kind of sad lately
> 
> *rereads what we wrote for Rey*
> 
> Me: Ah.
> 
> Me: Well, that's certainly not helping.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Graphic depiction of injury

If ever thou shalt love,  
In the sweet pangs of it remember me

Twelfth Night, or What You Will, II.I

* * *

 

 

Ben had said once that time moved very slowly when he was without her. She understood that kind of isolation now. And she regretted that necessity had forced her to leave him in such a cruel situation.

So much time lost between them. So much pain and wasted anger and things unsaid.

_“What did he want with you?”_

_“How often did you see him?”_

But she couldn’t bring herself to regret the moments that they had been able to steal. His kisses had burned her skin when he was in her arms and she wished that they had indeed scarred her. Something tangible that she could remember with, something she could run her fingers over.

_“Where did Kylo Ren go after he left?”_

_“Did he tell you anything about the First Order?”_

The bruises on her neck had healed too quickly, gone by the time she reawakened from her long sleep.

_“What did you tell him?”_

_“Did he bribe you to get information?”_

They had taken her scrap of his cape, cut it from her wrist while she was unconscious without a second thought. Her Force-dampening binders rubbed at her wrist bones, leaving raw skin in the place of comfort and bruises where there had once been devotion.

“Did he use the Force to trick you?”  
  
The scarce light in the cell was fake, casting the rock walls around her in the same watery gray day in and day out. When she slept, she fell asleep to the dull glow around the ceiling. When she woke, the light was the same. There was no morning, no night. Food came at regular intervals through a slot in the door, though because of her sleep patterns, she could never tell which bland meal was which. They just arrived. She just existed. She wasn't forgotten, but she certainly was not remembered.

_“Did he hurt you?”_

The same questions, over and over without answers, without end.

_“Tell us the truth. Tell us what he did.”_

Eternities stretched between the times her droid escorts locked her wrists to their mechanized bodies and dragged her through the same corridor. Over and over and over again. At some point she lost count of how many times she was walked down that rough-hewn hall, her bare feet scuffling against the sandy ground. She didn’t know what time it was, how many days she had been held. Her tally stood out in bloody, uneven clumps on her wall, like gory scales on the belly of a wounded beast. She couldn’t quite remember what she was counting any more.

Whenever she was awake, day or not, and she wasn’t summoned for an onslaught of repetitive questions which she had no intention of answering, she would lay on the cot in the corner of her cell, trying to piece together how she had come to this point.

Ben. All for him. All to save that little spark of light that would flare into an inferno in her presence. She had tried to spare him this fate. She brought it on herself instead.

She remembered the wind and the night racing by her as she took Ben on her speeder to the cave from the cabin, her heart racing despite Ben’s calming presence behind her.

She couldn’t lose him, even though he was right there with her.

She wouldn’t let his light go out.

She didn’t know where he was right now. She couldn’t feel him. The Resistance hadn’t told her any more about the return of the Supreme Leader. But she knew her Ben. She remembered how their minds had flowed together in the wake of their shared climax, no restrictions, no secrets, no shame. She had seen all that Ben had been, and all he could be, and she hadn’t been afraid. She knew that no matter where he was, he was not the same man he had been on Crait. He was not the same wraith who had captured her the first time they met on Takodana. He wasn’t the man he had been when he fell from the sky.

He held the Dark within him still; that she couldn’t deny. But he no longer smothered that beautiful Light, the one that shone in his smile and echoed in his laughter, the most precious sight she had ever seen. He was balanced.

She had kept her promise. It had been worth it. It had to be.

 

Little by little, day by interminable day, she lost herself in the cracks and corners of that long hallway. It was subtle at first, like losing weight or hair or skin cells. But after a while, those little losses added up. Whole clumps of identity were jostled off on her treks to the interrogation room, left to disintegrate into the sand drifts that seemed to gather at every crevice of this base. She would walk by them on the way back to her cell; they watched her pass with the same blank expression. She would look on each face and see a stranger.

Rey the scavenger, holding on for dear life to the shattered deck of a Star Destroyer, her treasures in a pack on her back.  
  
Rey the Jedi, lightsaber poised against a rock on Ahch-To.

Rey the deliverance of a ragtag band of dreamers and freedom-fighters, a mover of mountains.

Rey the creature of righteous fury and blazing ideals, staring evil right in its twisted face and laughing.  
  
Rey the woman, mortal and luminous and beloved of the heir to Darkness.

They all looked back with sad hazel eyes.  
  
She did not know the wretch locked away in that Resistance cell, crying into her cot as the silence rang in the hollowed out shell of her soul.

  


When she could drag her body out of bed, weak and tired and cold, somehow always cold, she would pace the cell until the boredom would possess her. No matter how many laps she made around the small space, nothing changed. Nothing improved. The fake lights never flickered. The only way out was at the mercy of her droid jailers. Even dragged between them, she couldn’t get a sense of the layout of the base. She could try to run for it. She could try to break free of her captors, but even if she weren’t too weak to fight, she didn’t know the way. She could get caught again, dragged back to this room, where things could always be worse,

There was, she realized, no way out.  
  
Her world narrowed. Her tiny cell, rocks and sand and blood. The interrogation room, one door, one chair, a wall of black glass. The voice that spoke to her whenever she was summoned, at first coaxing and then firmer as the interrogations progressed, began to haunt her nightmares, and her nightmares were the only things she could see when her eyes closed in search of rest. Moments of goodness, kind and soft things and sweet words, all tainted by never-ending questions and horrible thoughts that that voice had implanted in her.  
  
“Tell us what Kylo Ren did to you, Rey.”  
  
“He can’t hurt you anymore, don’t be afraid.”  
  
“He won’t touch you ever again.”

The voice once whispered promises to her. She was offered leniency in exchange for her obedience, gifts in exchange for her words: more clothing, better food, a warm room. But they were brittle and false, chipping away as easily as dust from the walls; she knew so little of what was real anymore, but she knew this for certain. There could be no value in promises. Ben had taught her that. Eventually the promises stopped.

After all, the interrogator would never give her the only thing she truly wanted: Ben could not reach her here.

 

 

At night, or what she felt was the longest expanse of uninterrupted solitude, she would try in vain to reconnect to her body, the pieces of skin and bone and flesh they had left her with.

Pulling the lone cover off of her, she hiked up the thin gown above her midriff and slid one hand into her undergarments, the skin on the back of her hand chapped and scabbed from the binders clenched tight around her wrists and the grit from the cell rubbing her raw all over.

She shifted her thighs apart and inched her underwear down just slightly, aware that she was probably being monitored, but long past the point of caring, and her fingers desperately sought out whatever little shocks of pleasure they could from the warmth between her legs, her fearful, strained panting the only sound in the crypt around her.

She wondered if that paltry heat was the last indicator that she was still alive in this limbo. In the past, she used to try to drag out the time, prolong the pleasure and the escape as much as possible. She didn’t care about that anymore. This was no place for ecstasy. This wasn’t about release; it was about the need to feel her heart race with something other than anxiety and ache with completeness rather than grief. Anything to try to remind herself that she was still human, still real.

Her fingers flew in a frenzy of movement and stinging friction, calloused fingertips dragging against delicate flesh. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that those rough fingers were bigger, longer, attached to the man she loved. Her teeth dug into her chapped lower lip, biting off the whimper of longing that threatened to claw its way out of her sore throat. Her free hand palmed savagely at her breast through the thin fabric; too small, too cold. He had taught her that there was an exquisite pleasure that could come from her breasts, one she hadn’t known to seek, but that rapture couldn’t be found, not matter how desperately she plucked at her skin through the coarse fabric. Desperately seeking even the tiniest spark of release, her fingers set a punishing pace on her clit, more pain than pleasure. She just wanted to feel _something_ again.

“Ben,” she croaked into the endless twilight. “ _Ben_...”

Cold guilt and anguish tore through her at the sound of his name on her cracked lips, soundly snuffing out any fire in her belly. She was alone. She was deluding herself, protracting her pain by thinking of him. Too far away to touch him, too lost to find him, too broken to be loved by him. She flung her arm over her eyes to hide her stinging tears, her scraped up fingers still trying to eke out something _anything_ from between her legs, the cuff around her wrist biting against the soft flesh of her pubic mound.

Nothing. Empty. Alone.

With a ragged sob, she pulled her hand away from herself, banging her battered fist against the wall a few times. What a pathetic waste.

She righted her clothes and turned over, hating what little was left of herself.

  


Words became heavy on her tongue and they did not come easily to her anymore. Most interrogation sessions were spent in silence as the phantom voice badgered her for the truth. Truth and lies were so easily confused now.  
  
Truth.  
  
The truth was a slippery creature, constantly mutating, hard to grasp, that distant cousin of guilt. Truth had more teeth, though, and lacked guilt’s sharp claws. She let truth sink its fangs into her flesh while she was alone in her cell. She catalogued the bite marks and remembered the jaws behind them when the voice grew tired of her silence.

“Don’t be afraid. We just need to know what he did.”  
  
“Just tell us and we will keep you safe.”  
  
“We won’t let him near you again.”  
  
“Just tell us the truth.”  
  
“Tell us.”  
  
“ _Tell us.”_

She had noticed the way the voice seemed desperate to find out not only what she knew about Kylo— _Ben;_ she couldn’t let them take his name from her memory—but what he had done to hurt her.

At some point in the process of breaking her, the interrogator decided that cajoling wasn’t going to work on the prisoner.

“Did the Supreme Leader ever use the Force to coerce you into having sexual intercourse with him?”

The answering glare that the black glass wall received was nothing short of lethal. For the briefest of moments, the rage boiling in her veins felt something like being alive again.

“ _Fuck off,_ ” she hissed.

The session ended quickly and that particular question was never repeated.

The questions came furiously and in a number of similar but slightly altered forms, a desperate plea on behalf of her captors to believe that there was a valiant Jedi in this tattered shell, one who had resisted the call to the Dark and was waiting for the trance to end. Or maybe this was a desperate plea to expose the true depravity of the Supreme Leader: torturing a woman into loving and protecting him, stealing her honor and virtue away in the night, the cost of her compassion.

How she longed to tell them that she was the one who had used the Dark side on him; she had tortured him, heartbroken and exhausted and sick with guilt, nearly choking him to death as quickly as she had brought him back to life.

Had she told her interrogators that, she had no doubt she would be moved to an officer’s suite in an instant. But she never said it.  
  
Instead, after what must have been weeks of badgering, she merely looked up from her lap, where her fingers dug into the skin rubbed raw under the cuffs that bound her senses, imprisoning her more than walls ever could. Her chapped lips stretched and cracked into a mad, bloody smile.

And she told them the truth.

“Ben can fly anything.”

“Ben is sarcastic. Like the General, I guess. Definitely like his father.”  
  
“Ben learned to speak a few languages, but he likes Mando’a because he thinks it’s affectionate.”  
  
“Ben taught me how to dance.”  
  
“Ben can draw. He’s amazing at technical diagrams. Rubbish at scenery, though.”  
  
“Ben likes it when I run my fingers through his hair.”  
  
“Ben calls me cyar’ika.”  
  
She would allow them one kernel of truth for all the lies they tried to feed her. It was the only power she had left.

Finally, she let free a confession that she had deemed sacred only to her.

“Ben doesn’t want to be Supreme Leader. He only ever wanted to be a pilot. He’d have left the First Order with me, if we’d only had the chance.”  
  
And the voice stopped for a minute or more. The silence, she learned, was the sound of the interrogator discussing things with the silent phantoms in the room beyond the dark glass: Poe, she assumed, and she did not know who else.

But this time, when the voice returned it simply said, “Thank you for your help today, Rey. That will be all.”  
  
The droids appeared in moments, and she was taken back to her cell.

 _He only ever wanted to be a pilot_.

It mattered to her. It was the one thing on which everything else she knew about Ben, her Ben, rested: this life was not chosen by him. He had not chosen the path of the Jedi. She had seen in his mind how he had been twisted, corrupted into the dark, a path forced upon him from birth.  
  
He had not wanted to cause harm, only to _be_ , to exist safe and free and loved.

She had not told them that, but perhaps this time, she had given too much away.

  


As the cold voice had promised, her information was not without its value; when her next meal arrived (supper?), the unappetizing nutritional paste was accompanied by a strange, colorful fruit, the brightness of the flesh perhaps just as exciting if not more than the food itself.

A jogan fruit.

She wept.

 

She had another nightmare; one vivid and painful. One she was not sure was entirely hers alone.

It was a vision she’d had on Takodana, one that started off as a distant phantom until it became a looming specter, always in the back of her mind, in the dark corners of her happiest interactions.

They had found Ben, found the cabin while she was away scouting through the wreckage.

She’d returned to the base to find the celebration underway, a crowd gathered as Resistance soldiers dragged him across the tarmac.

She saw her worst fears come true. Her worst fears and, she remembered, his.

The grisly parade ended with trail of blood oozing from Ben, bound and shackled and barely recognizable through his injuries. Some of the blood was pouring from his scalp where the soldier dragged him by his hair; she could see the places where his black locks had already been yanked out.

Most of it was coming from his mouth, dripping down his chin. Not all of it dribbled to the ground, however; there was an ample amount on his neck and dripping down his bruised chest. There were other wounds, too, but she could barely pick them out amongst the sickening blue-black bruises coating his face and bare body. The beautiful form she’d loved was just a memory, replaced with a mangled frame, a horrific facsimile of a human.

His left leg was bent at inhuman angles; the right leg staggered to keep himself under the fist of his captor, but his dirty, bloodied foot was clearly too pained to keep up, dragging the rest of him with it. His arms, bound in cuffs, hung limply at his sides; his shattered right shoulder hung at that strange angle, like a broken doll.  
  
The procession paused, and pivoted to face her. Ben’s head was freed at last, but not before he was shoved into the dirt in front of her.

The interrogator’s voice echoed in her ears.

“Tell us the truth. Tell us what he did.”

Hands shoved her to her knees. Hands raised Ben by his shoulders. His one eye was swollen and discolored; she was surprised it was still in his skull.

His bloodied lips parted, revealing a shattered smile. His smile, a rare, precious thing, concocted just for her, was no longer, replaced by a mangled set of broken teeth.

“Tell us the truth. Tell us what he did.”

 _It’s okay cyar’ika,_ Ben crooned into her mind. _You can tell them. Don’t be afraid._

His grim mouth formed words faintly remembered, from a lifetime before, but his eyes, the damaged and the good, seemed to entreat her.  
  
_I’m here. And I will be here for as long as it takes. I will keep my promise._

She looked down in her hands. His lightsaber weighed heavily in her grasp.  
  
He dipped his head, offering her his neck.  
  
_It’s alright, Rey. You don’t have to be afraid anymore._

Her vision blurred with tears and her hands shook as she gripped the weapon tighter. The warmth drained from the sun and everything seemed to slow around her. Faceless judges and Resistance fighters watched in silent condemnation.

“B-Ben,” she hiccuped.

His one good eye cast up at her face, glowing with love for her.

_Rey..._

She flipped the grip on the saber and ignited the bloody red blade into what remained of her broken heart.

Fire seared through her and she vaguely heard a choked gasp. Ben gave a wet cough, blood spattered the ground before him, and his great, battered body crumpled into itself, a long beam of hard red light erupting grotesquely from his back. The lightsaber guttered out in her slackening grip. She couldn’t stop the pull of gravity as she fell to the ground, facing Ben’s shivering form. He was so pale, even under the bruises his skin was sickeningly colorless. Deathly.

His mangled hand reached out for her, shaking with the effort to keep the appendage up as he brushed a tear from her cheek.

And he smiled.

“I—I will…find you again...Rey,” he whispered. “I p-promise...I’ll find you…”

She felt it the moment his light flickered out, and followed him with a sob a heartbeat later.

She awoke with no concept of how long she had been asleep and a hoarseness in her throat that told her that she had been screaming the whole time.

 

She looked so...small. The young woman hunched in that metal chair in the center of the empty room was not the same one that Leia had witnessed bending the earth of Crait to her will. This creature on the other side of the glass was a shade of her former self. Dark circles simmered under dulled hazel eyes, long chestnut hair fell in limp tangles around hollowed cheeks, and angry scabs peeked out from under those hideous dampener cuffs. This was not Rey anymore.

The General took a shuddering breath and crossed her arms over herself, suddenly feeling dreadfully cold. Poe had finally relented and allowed her to observe one of his and Azwe Di’s interrogations, and Leia was starting to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake in coming. She was just there to observe. But the fury flickering to life within her was hard to contain. It was sickening to watch the once strong and fiery young woman in the chair crumble a little more with every question.

She cast a glance around the booth to her companions. Poe leaned against the wall by the window, staring in at the...traitor with a hard expression. Leia could see the anger and tension feathering in the muscle in his jaw. He was here for vengeance, not the truth. He had made his judgment already. Now he just needed corroboration of his beliefs.

A few odd crew members took up watch at the back of the small room, propping up the wall as they watched and chatted amongst themselves. Leia was reminded of sitting at the opera with her parents, waiting for the curtain to rise and overhearing the murmur of impatient audience members.

"Let's see how long it takes to get something out of her today."

"It's a waste of time, honestly."

“I don’t know how much more she’s got in her. Either she doesn’t know anything else or she’s stupidly stubborn.”

“This would all be done if she’d just—”

Leia bristled. Azwe turned to them with a finger pressed to her lips and a rebuking glare.

Azwe stood perfectly straight, tall and willowy and utterly relaxed. The consummate professional, she had offered her services to Leia as an interrogator after the First Order had bombed her news organization to silence the “radical dissention” that she and her colleagues had published. The Togruta was notoriously unflappable, easy to talk to, completely unreadable, and sharper than any blade. The perfect inquisitor. But Leia could see that, unlike Poe, Azwe had not yet been convinced of her subject’s guilt. There was a spark of understanding and curiosity in her golden eyes, even as she calmly sliced little pieces off of her subject.

The voices dropped to a whisper.

"She's got nothing left. He messed her up bad."

"Nah, she's got something. She just doesn't want to give it up."

"You mean like she gave it up for the Supreme Leader?"

Leia turned a blazing glare on the hapless crew, her displeased stare unflinching. They all at least had the good sense to blanch down to their nail beds and avert their eyes from the General’s silent fury.

“Tell us more, Rey,” Azwe said firmly into the speaker, affect completely neutral. “You were a great help to us the last time we spoke. We just need a little more from you.”

The girl just stared. Stared and stared, her mind a million light years away from this tiny room underground.

Azwe paused for a few moments, giving her subject time to answer even though she knew that none would be forthcoming.

She cautiously turned to glance first at Poe and then at Leia, her expression beseeching. The Togruta’s eyes met the General's; Leia understood the unspoken question. She nodded solemnly.  
  
Azwe turned back to the microphone and pressed the button to broadcast her voice.  
  
"Tell us more about Ben, Rey."

The girl flinched, her thin shoulders shuddering at the name, one that only she had uttered until this point in the interrogations.

Kylo Ren had been transformed, finally, but to what end?

Her breathing picked up and Leia could just see tears beginning to form in her red-rimmed eyes.  
  
“Ben...” she began after a long moment, her voice hoarse and quiet. “Ben was...”  
  
Tears fell in earnest then, dripping onto her shaking hands where they were clasped in her lap.  
  
“Ben was kind,” she choked, and it seemed that this would be the truth that finally broke her beyond repair.  
  
“He was good to me and...and he _loved_ me.”  
  
The force of her weeping bowed her back and she pressed her forehead against her knees.  
  
“I wanted it. I consented...all of it. He didn’t hurt me, I swear it. I-I _wanted_ him. He saved my life, he would never hurt me.”  
  
She began to rock herself as she repeated the words over and over.  
  
“He loved me, he loved me...”

Poe scoffed. "This bantha shit again."

 _“THAT IS ENOUGH!_ “  
  
Leia whirled toward the captain, her gaze burning as if she had lashed a stinging slap across his cheek. She flung an accusing finger toward the huddled body beyond the glass.  
  
“That woman, _your friend,_ could know where Kylo Ren is sleeping this very moment but you have broken her to the point of catatonia!” she shouted. “How _dare_ you belittle her any further.”  
  
She pushed past him to call the droid guards. She watched with an anguished expression as they dragged what was left of her son’s beloved out of the room. Then she turned on her subordinate once more, her voice suddenly deadly in its quiet rage.  
  
“This is not how the Resistance operates and if this treatment continues, I will see you court-martialed and relieved of command, at best. Am I understood, Captain?”

Poe stood up straighter, shoulders squared, lest he succumb to humiliation in front of his men.  
  
"General, I thought we had agreed that you are too personally invested in this case to continue to oversee it."

“ _AM I UNDERSTOOD?_ ” she roared, every inch a warrior queen.

Poe crossed his arms and sneered, panting heavily, but said nothing for a moment.  
  
"Fine. But I will not allow you to continue to meddle in this investigation. You recused yourself, if you recall."

The General’s eyes flashed but her face remained stony.  
  
"Rey is in Resistance custody, we are still responsible for her well-being. I will be personally relieving you of her care, recusal be damned, since you cannot be trusted to treat her with a scrap of humanity.” Her voice was icy. “I don’t know what happened to the Resistance I founded, the one created to defend the rights and dignity of _every_ life form, because this is not that Resistance."  
  
She made sure that the assembled crew heard her, turning her lightning glare on the rest of her underlings. They stood at immediate attention. This order would not be questioned. Then she returned her focus to Poe.  
  
“Do not forget, _Captain_ ,” she said, dreadfully soft, “that I have been playing this game for far longer than you have and have gone toe to toe with far more intimidating opponents.”  
  
She stepped fractionally closer, staring him down.  
  
“I _know_ monsters when I see them.”  
  
And with that, she swept from the room, letting the brimstone linger in her wake.

 

At the exact moment she felt as if she had finally cried herself dry, she heard the door slide open again, and heard the familiar clanking of metal legs.  
  
"Is it that time already, boys?" she croaked, rolling over to watch the tall droids stomp in.

She sat up groggily on her cot and offered her thin, raw wrists to the intruders. It felt too soon to go again, though she had no idea how much time had actually passed. There was really no way of knowing. Her tallies, the harsh red lines on the wall, were now meaningless, adrift in a patternless sea with no rhythm, no time. They represented neither days nor nights. They simply showed that she had once held hope, once had tried to capture the days like rain through her open palm. Her hope had long since faded by now, leaving behind only battle scarred walls.  
  
She was jerked to her feet as usual, and she and her escort began the silent trek to the interrogation room. She knew these halls well; she didn't know if another life form ever came this way, or if the only feet that had ever trod these halls were hers and the droids beside her. She had tried to memorize some of the indentations of the walls on either side of her, in case she needed to navigate when she made her escape.  
  
She knew, however, that there was no chance of escaping.  
  
At the end of the hall she came to an fork, where she was led to the interrogation room on the left. However, this time, the droids took a synchronized pivot to the right.  
  
Her heart raced, the only part of her that could still process fear. They were either trying to disorient her by taking a new route, or...  
  
Or this was it; she was being taken to her execution.  
  
Part of her almost felt relief, then sorrow. Ben wouldn't know. He might be waiting for her, and cut off from the Force bond as they were now, he would never know she was gone.  
  
Or worse. He had forgotten her, and wouldn't even care.  
  
She closed her eyes as the droids pulled her forward into a strange tunnel. No, she couldn't think like that.

They pulled her into a rickety lift that traveled through the dark tunnels between floors, a small lantern the only light on the metal platform.

“Please,” Rey begged the droids, her weak heart racing. “Where are you taking me?”

They studied her, but gave no answer They pulled her onto a new floor.  
  
As she stumbled further into the unknown corridors of the base, past more doors holding R'iia knows what, she thought she heard quiet noises, like running water. Whispers. Laughter.  
  
There were people nearby, just out of eyesight.  
  
They would watch her die.  
  
Finally the droids stopped in front of a door, turned, and activated the lock. Rey scrunched her eyes together as they dragged her into the room, and when they released her wrists, she brought her hands up behind her head.  
  
She heard the door slide closed behind the droids, then the room was completely silent. She opened her eyes slowly. It was dark.  
  
Panic gripped her. This was a new form of cruelty. She began hyperventilating.

"H-hello?" she called into the darkness. No response. Her voice did not travel far, swallowed up in shadows.  
  
She lowered her hands and reached around her, trying to find something, anything to center herself. She could feel her hands shaking.

She could only imagine the new punishment they'd invented for her. Their neglect was its own form of torture; she was not eager to see what their genuine abuse looked like.  
  
She lowered her hands to the ground. It wasn't the grit and rock of her cell. It was softer. Woven. She scraped her hands across the fabric. It wasn't particularly soft, but it was comfort enough.  
  
When the disorientation finally eased, she reached her hands tentatively forward, feeling for anything else. There was nothing but the still, dry air around her. Her shaky fingers reached further into the darkness, her breath tight in her chest.  
  
She flexed her fingers and extended her arm further, further. Her index finger brushed something metallic and she jerked her hand back with a small yelp. There was a clattering sound, and then blue light flooded the room.

“Rey, I hope this message finds you well,” the holo of General Organa said, appearing in the room as a small, regal specter, wearing a travelling gown rather her usual coveralls. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to tell you all this in person, but while you’re watching this I am likely still engaged in a shouting match with Captain Dameron about my decision to move you out of those horrible conditions.”

The General stood tall as she began her address, and then she paused and shifted, wilting under the burden of her sins.  
  
“I am so sorry about everything, Rey. All of this. I never meant for this to happen. And I never meant for you to be hurt this way. When I landed on Takodana and felt my son...I was so stunned, so relieved to know he was alive that I didn’t think through the consequences of saying anything. But he was there. And he was so bright. I haven’t felt so much Light in him since…”  
  
She trailed off, and shook her grainy head. “It’s been too long. But you brought Ben back from wherever the Darkness had taken him, and I can’t thank you enough for that. I’d lost all hope in him, and you brought that back. And that hope is more powerful than you can imagine. I don’t know how we’re going to get him back for good, but I know you...you give me hope that it can make it happen.”

The small holo of Leia lifted her gaze, and eyes that she couldn’t quite distinguish seemed to pierce through Rey, even as she sat at a distance on the floor.  
  
“I cannot undo all the harm that’s been done to you, but I want to start making things right. For both of you. Things will be better now, I promise. This is your new room. I hope it’s a little bit homier.”  
  
This was the first time she peeled her eyes away from the small form of the General and glanced around the space. It was a larger cell, certainly, but she could see a braided rug beneath her and, in the corner of the room, a bed, a real one, much like the one she’d had at the old base. There was a curtain in corner where a little washroom was set into the wall, and around the ceiling there appeared to be a few small windows. It was night outside, bleak and starless, but for the first time, Rey felt herself anchored to time.     
  
“I’ll see you soon, once I talk Poe out of his latest paroxysm,” Leia concluded with a chuckle. “We have a lot to talk about. But until then, I have something for you. I found it on Takodana. I think...I know Ben wanted you to have it.”  
  
Leia lowered her head in a small bow. “The Force _will_ be with you, Rey. I promise. We’ll be in touch.”

The messaged ended, and the room was plunged once again into darkness. On shaky legs, Rey rose to her feet and clambered over to the door, fumbling along the wall until she felt something give, pressing down a panel and turning on the wall-mounted lights. The golden glow was painfully familiar; the light almost reminded her of the cave, hers and Ben’s. She shivered. She had initially thought it was warmer here, but she couldn’t tell.  
  
She stared at a small box in the center of the room. It had probably been white once, but had likely spent too much time around the base, and had acquired a layer of grit and dirt that obscured what it had truly been. Rey knelt before the box, and slowly pried the lid off.  
  
She couldn’t quite make out what she was seeing until she pulled the object out, holding it in her rough fingers. To an outsider, the bundle of wires and scraps was insignificant, trash.

In her shaking hands, she cradled the odd little doll as if it was a newborn. Captain Ræh reincarnated, down to her little orange flight suit. The patch from Ben’s jumpsuit had been haphazardly tied to her front, and the thin linen of her head still faintly bore the yellowish stain of old bacta. She hadn’t packed this on the night they had escaped from the cabin. He must have made it after…

She pressed the doll to her chest, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth as her body shook with silent sobs. Tears were long since dried in her eyes, but her thin frame still shuddered uncontrollably. Not from despair this time. For the first time since...since before everything fell apart, she felt joy, comfort, _love,_ seeping into her bones from where Captain Ræh’s slipshod little body nestled into her sternum. The Force was unreachable to her now, but she could have sworn that the doll fairly glowed in the half-light of the room. A light that had gone out of her life since Ben had been torn away from her.

This was a gift. It was hope.

That night, for the first time since she had been brought to this place, Rey did not cry herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are equal opportunity sad masturbators. 
> 
>  
> 
> Due to life being life, we’re going to be shifting the update schedule to a chapter every two weeks for the time being. Thank you so much for your patience and continued support. We love you. Yes, you. You personally. With the computer. You know who you are.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lord Ren,” Hux growled, teeth clenched. “Are you quite well?”

It was pointless, Hux knew, to exhaust himself on obsessions.  
  
Certainly, there were benefits to single-mindedness. Complete focus was a virtue. It had led him to some of his greatest work. Obsession, however, was destructive. A man of his position could not afford to give himself over to obsession.

But the behavior of Kylo Ren was so particular that Hux found himself making an exception. There was something fundamentally wrong with that man, something that was noxious enough to pollute the entire First Order should it be let loose on even a single Star Destroyer.

If only he could figure out, what, exactly, _it_ was.

He never stopped watching the Supreme Leader when he was in the man’s presence. He studied his every motion, every facial expression. The mask was a good disguise. It hid enough of the child beneath it to dress up his petulance as power, but not enough that Hux’s eyes couldn’t see through the flimsiness of the facade.

But it _worked_ , damn him. There were few officers who seemed capable of even entertaining a question about the legitimacy of their Supreme Leader, about his continually lacking faculties to lead the organization on its proper course. Ren was strange enough before the crash, but now his bizarre behavior had escalated to a point of disengaged madness. He could see Ren’s eyes, large and sad and tired, so pitifully, _humanly,_ tired. Even when settling disputes, those eyes always seemed far off.

Every day he watched Ren, those eyes, raw and pathetic and just a heartbeat away from betraying himself, from spilling the truth.

Every day Ren asked the same questions. His sudden interest in the First Order’s intelligence efforts was...startling, to say the least. Ren had seemed too emotional and hard-headed for espionage before, and Snoke was wise to leave him out of it. But now he pressed on daily when briefed by advisors. He asked if they had located the Resistance. He was out for revenge.

That did not do Hux any good.

Every day Ren asked the same questions.

_Has there been any sign of the pilot?_

_No, my lord._

_The traitor?_

_No, my lord._

_The Jedi? The general?_

_No, my lord._

Ren somehow kept those sad eyes passive and would nod, feigning patience and understanding.

 _What was he looking for?_ Hux wondered.

 

It was only a matter of time. The monster was bound to break.

Hux knew he just had to keep watching. One day he would catch the Supreme Leader faltering, and it would be enough to bring all the might of the First Order down upon him.

But he was growing impatient. And impatience was almost as great a personal failing as obsession.

Weeks had passed since Ren’s return, and he was as beastly and tragic as ever. He seemed intent on relaxing the Order’s military endeavors, seeking instead to refocus their efforts into internal growth, rebuilding organization structures that had deteriorated since the failed capture of Takodana. He wasn’t interested in even the slightest whisper of reviving the Starkiller base project. He was interested in consolidating outposts and strengthening existing control rather than building their capital.

This was a mistake. They needed to prove they were still strong, dauntless in the face of defeat. How could Ren not see that?

Hux couldn’t believe he would willingly be this stupid. He had a score of generals presenting him with opportunities for shows of strength, small systems just crying out for First Order control. But he brushed these off and moved garrisons haphazardly around like a child playing holo-chess.

However, these poor decisions, obvious and shameful as they were, left no visible footprint for Hux to exploit, he realized with dismay. Ren was emotional and fractious and would respond to any slight or disagreement with an invisible hand around your windpipe but baiting him with insults wouldn’t provide Hux with any more evidence of Ren’s neglectful leadership in a way that would empower other officials to act.

There had to be more.

Hux just had to wait.

He kept his outward behavior the same as it had always been. He kept his own counsel.

And then his patience was rewarded.

 

Ren was his usual sickly pallor as he stepped out of the shuttle and onto the landing bay of the _Harbinger._ They were there to discuss the First Order’s progress with negotiating a territorial dispute with a spice ring in the Western Reaches. The goal, naturally, was to bring the entire system under First Order control, but first, they had to ally with the spice traders, filthy smugglers though they were. The strongest would win. The First Order would ally with them. The might of the First Order would be on display once more in the galaxy.

Ren had seemed faintly surprised when they left that morning, clearly too addled to remember they had scheduled this visit, but he had gone where he was told. Even as the Supreme Leader, he was just a whipped dog without a firm hand on his leash. He only played at being a leader. He was a fangless cur, Hux knew. It was just a matter of making everyone else wake up to it.

Ren watched the stormtroopers run their drills for his approval. Hux watched him.

He was staring, but vacant. He was lightyears away, and Hux couldn’t begin to imagine where. However, it mattered little. This sort of distraction was unbecoming of a leader. It was dereliction of duty. It should not be tolerated.

The meetings progressed, though with little input from the Supreme Leader. He merely observed, occasionally asking for clarification, but rarely did he speak out to express opinions on the matter. Hux did most of the talking. He had little problem with this, of course, but noted that Ren ought to have taken a more active role in these discussions. Another flaw in the mongrel’s behavior.

When he’d worn his full mask, Ren was prone to outbursts, turning into a raving madman at the slightest provocation. Now, he was passive. The officers all seemed rather startled by this change, Hux could tell.

Ren was showing his hand.

The meeting adjourned with promises from the commanders of the _Harbinger_ to keep monitoring the progress of the feud between the two top rival smuggling groups, and Ren took his leave with a silent, curt nod of his head. Hux and the rest of his officers followed suit.

They wove through the ship as Captain Denebin drew their attention to the state-of-the-art training facilities that had been recently renovated when a commotion quickly drew the attention of the assembled party.  
  
There was a loud struggle, as two armored ‘troopers tried to wrangle a third, who was clearly wailing through their helmet. Denebin paled as he strode towards the scene. Hux watched, smirking to himself.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The ‘troopers dragging their peer quickly stood at attention. They rattled off their callsigns before explaining.

“It’s SK-1828. She won’t obey orders, sir.”

“We’re supposed to be preparing to go patrol the village, but she refuses to go, sir.”

“And why not, SK-1828?” growled Denebin.

The ‘trooper didn’t respond but went slack in the arms of her compatriots.

“Answer me, soldier!”

After a moment there was a murmured response.

“I can’t, sir,” she panted. “Not after last time.”

“What do you _mean,_ ‘after last time?’” the captain barked. As far as power plays went, Hux was fairly bored by this one. It was too by-the-book.

There was another moment, more barked orders and shoving before the ‘trooper muttered something again.

“They...they shot a girl. A child. For fun.”

“What was that, SK-1828?”

“I _said_ ,” the ‘trooper said, her voice a crackling roar in her helmet. “I watched my fellow ‘troopers shoot an innocent child because they were bored, sir.”

She was still for a moment, and then her helmeted face turned back to the captain. “I watched her die, sir. And it’s still haunting me to hear the wail of her mother—”

“ _Enough!”_  Denebin shouted, the color rising above his collar. “This sort of insubordination will not be tolerated. I will have a full report written up about this incident.”

He drew up straighter, and then his eyes drifted off to his company. He had _known_ the Supreme Leader was there, and yet somehow, despite his knowledge of the importance of this detail, hadn’t fully reacted in proportion to this detail. Hux watched his posture shift as he turned back to his subordinates.

“EC-0681, execute the traitor.”

“What?” SK-1828 shouted. “No, please, _please_ , sir, you have to listen—”

“The time for excuses has long since passed. You have shamed me and yourself before the Supreme Leader. The only recourse is death. EC-0681, you have been trained in executions, I’m sure?”

The ‘trooper to her right hesitated, then released her before backing away, a pathetic showing bordering on cowardice, Hux observed with a sneer.

The third ‘trooper backed away nervously. Dazed, EC-0681 turned to his companion, releasing her from his awkward grip and shoving her to her knees, her back to the assembled crowd. When he’d forced her hands behind her back, he pulled off her helmet. Her chestnut brown hair was surprisingly long for a female stormtrooper, and it had been pulled back into a small topknot. Hux thought he felt Ren tense beside him.

“EC-0681, blaster at the ready.”

Hux almost sensed a pathetic, minute tremble as EC-0681 drew his blaster from his side and leveled it at the back of his friend’s head. SK-1828 cried freely now but muted her cowardly little whimpers.

EC-0681’s finger rested on the trigger. Hux braced for the familiar sound of blaster fire, the smell of burnt flesh, and the thud and clank of the limp body hitting the floor, but as the bolt was fired, he found himself ducking.

“ _STOP._ ”

The shot rang out, followed by a metallic clang and the undeniable smell of burnt durasteel.

Ren had stepped forward, deflecting the shot away from the head of the trooper and into the wall opposite them. His body stood frozen in a desperate lunge, punctuating his action.

A shocked silence flooded the room. Hux was, of course, the first to regain a voice against the Supreme Leader.

“Lord Ren,” he growled, teeth clenched. “Are you quite well?”

As if he just realized the room was otherwise occupied, Kylo turned to him, large dark eyes wide for an instant before he narrowed them on Hux.

“What sort of retribution is this?” his inhuman voice hissed, turning his hateful gaze to Denebin. “Is this what the First Order has become in my absence? A lawless paradise where those who draw attention to wrongdoing are punished more harshly than the wrongdoers?”

He straightened his posture, his sudden looming height causing several officers to flinch. EC-0681 stood rooted to the spot, his rifle trembling in his hand, while SK-1828 had erupted into noisy sobbing.

Ren towered over the captain as he spoke slowly. “Captain Denebin, your facilities are state-of-the-art. Your training is commendable.”

The captain in question looked halfway to fainting but still attempted a shaking bow in thanks.

“Your oversight of the troops you manage, however, leaves much to be desired.”

Denebin blanched, opening his mouth to blubber out an explanation, but the Supreme Leader held up a hand to silence him.

“You have demonstrated a dereliction of duty that resulted in civilian casualties that could turn sympathies against the First Order in crucial worlds. You are hereby relieved of your command until a thorough investigation of the incident SK-1828 described can be concluded.”  
  
He turned back to the assembled ‘troopers. “You three will be reassigned, effective immediately. Return to your quarters until you receive your new orders.”

His eyes scanned the faces of his officers. “I have seen enough. This visit is concluded. I will return to the shuttle for immediate departure.”

With a sharp snap of his cape and a deliberate stomp, Ren took off for the corridor that would lead him back to the _Harbinger_ ’s landing bay.

Hux cast a glance back at the sobbing woman on the floor and the death-pale former captain with disdain, an idea forming, as he began to follow the Supreme Leader.

Obsession was a dangerous thing. It was pointless when it was used for idle worry or to spur reckless action.

But in the mind of the enemy, it could be a powerful weapon.

Obsession, he realized, trailing the Supreme Leader’s inky black form through the durasteel corridor, would be what finally brought down Kylo Ren.

He just had to act soon.  


Ben knew the moment he had extended his hand that he was making a horrendous mistake. And yet he had done it anyway.

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

The word echoed with each step in the corridor.

He slapped the access panel to his quarters far more roughly than he intended.

 _Idiot._ _They’ll be on to you now._

His officers couldn't possibly know anything concrete, but now that the Supreme Leader had shown mercy to a stormtrooper accused of mutiny, they might guess that something was wrong with him. Might speculate he had something to hide. And they’d be right.

Maybe, if he had sold it better, made it sound more convincing...

He pried his mask off his face and tossed it angrily onto the bed.

He shouldn’t have done it. He tried to make himself look judicious. It just made him look soft.

He began peeling off layers of black clothing. Cape, outer tunic, and jacket fell in a pile on the floor.

SK-1828. It was her. All her fault.

_The cost of her life might have been too high._

He had tried to pretend everything was normal on his return trip from the _Harbinger_. Hux hadn’t said anything. There wasn’t much that needed to be said. Ben could practically hear his disdain and revulsion broadcast across the shuttle. The other officers were confused. They couldn’t understand why the Supreme Leader would stop a blaster shot to save a lowly foot soldier. That confusion was laced with doubt.

The consensus, Ben had learned, was that the Supreme Leader had displayed sentimentality, not justice.

 _Great_.

Sufficiently undressed, Ben stalked over to the corner of the room. This spot was the only place in the galaxy he felt true peace.

He kneeled to look at the wall. His wall. The lines, once small, unnoticeable little flecks along the floor, were now a small army of streaky marks crossing the corner of this little nook. Every one a day away from Rey. Every day spent searching for her. And yet he found himself no closer to finding her than he’d been when he started.

He wanted to keep looking for her, certainly, but he couldn’t hunt forever. He couldn’t keep up this facade. It was falling quickly, chipping away bit by bit since he had that dream. Vader. No, _Anakin._

It wasn't real, he told himself. But that didn't make the dream any less unnerving. Still, he had given a silly dream far too much power, and it was ripping him apart.

The Knights were already suspicious of him. They had made it abundantly clear in their sparring sessions.

Despite his assumed death, the Knights hadn’t been happy to see him return. Of course, he’d had no illusion that they’d suddenly found a great love for their leader in his absence; they shared nothing but fellowship built out of a sick sense of obligation, too cold to be even remotely called loyalty.

Moreover, they weren’t happy that, after years of fighting against him with blades, he had begun bringing in his staff—Rey’s staff—to train with. Though he struggled with it at first, he soon found it felt like an extension of his arm. Perhaps that was the shadow of Rey’s memories in his mind.

_We’ve been through a lot together, that staff and I._

Either way, the Knights found themselves flat on their backs more often than any one of them was comfortable with.

Ben called that staff to his hands now and leaned forward on his elbows.

Three days. He'd counted. He'd been away from here for three days. Three small tallies. Three days of searching. He began scraping at the wall with the metal end of Rey's staff.

He was doing the best he could, he rationalized.

He didn’t believe it for a second. He tried not to be angry at himself, but tonight, as with other nights, he failed, and the grating at the wall was all the more furious for it.

It was his fault they were separated. It was his fault First Order Intelligence was in shambles in the first place and he couldn’t even get the slightest bead on her.

He brushed away the metal shavings.

The scratches were crossing the wall. He was running out of time. He had no idea what state she was in, and he was too scared to imagine the possibilities. But even if she was alright, He was going mad here among _his_ people. The opposite of mad, actually; he was becoming gentle. A lapdog. The minute he faltered, showed them his soft belly, they would gut him mercilessly.

He was just helping them sharpen their knives.

And why? Why was _this_ the issue on which he chose to stake his safety? Why give even half a thought to an insubordinate stormtrooper?

 _Because_ s _he looked like her._

Same chestnut hair, same slight build under the thick white armor. Maybe it went through his mind for the briefest second that this was Rey after all; she’d become a stormtrooper undercover as a way of getting to him. But he knew in his soul it wasn’t her.

But he _remembered_. And he panicked.

If he would have to witness Rey die, even a Rey look alike, he would have broken down completely. He had to prevent her death. Even if it wasn’t really her.

Every time he shut his eyes and tried to sleep, there was Rey, falling to her knees with her hands behind her head awaiting execution just as the Force Bond was severed between them on Takodana. He watched it, over and over. Rey falling. Him screaming. Her vanishing in the middle of the cave.

And as many times as he tried to tell himself that he’d know if she was dead...there was always doubt.

Snoke. He had Snoke to thank for that.

Snoke had told him he was the most powerful Force User in the galaxy, had the potential to be the most powerful there ever was.

 _Power._ That’s the name he gave the burning heat that had coursed through Ben’s bloodstream since childhood, since before he was aware of himself, of what differences he possessed. This power was something fretful and awful and he couldn’t control it, but there was always Snoke’s voice in his mind telling him that he could control it, and so much more.

Power. That’s what went unsaid in Luke’s training. Ben was _gifted,_ Ben was _clever,_ Ben was _strong in the Force._

But no one talked about the power Ben wielded, lying dormant just underneath his fingertips.

Because if they talked about his power, then they would have to talk about the Darkness inside of him.

And when he had finally embraced the Darkness, he felt closer to realizing what power really meant.

Power. He’d felt that when Rey had dipped into his mind on Starkiller, her drawing it from him like the base drew energy from its star. Snoke had claimed to have been so powerful as to have bridged Ben’s mind to Rey’s. The surprising bond between them a callous tool to control them both.

Power. Ben seized it back to save Rey.

And now he was completely powerless. He couldn’t find her mind, and everything he tried made him believe he never really could this whole time.

And on top of that, he was without a lightsaber.

This had been most apparent to the Knights of Ren. They had not been gentle in their criticisms of him in their sparring sessions. What self-respecting Master of the Knights of Ren, what Darkside Force User with any scrap of dignity, would find himself without a lightsaber for any duration of time?

Certainly, the reality of the crash shouldn’t have been lost on them, but they were not ones for sentimentality or excuses. The fact that he hadn’t destroyed the entirety of Takodana with whatever functioning limbs he possessed after the Silencer landed was considered a personal failing to more than one of his companions, who sneered at him, “Make a new one, then.”

It didn’t matter to any of them that he had grown proficient with the ungainly staff he had returned with, of course; they still found his lack of a blade questionable. He wasn’t certain he had acquired Rey’s talents through the Force in quite the same way she had gained his, but he had been into her memories, seen what she had seen and experienced, and in many moments, he felt his conscious sense of self slip away and her touch take over his muscles. Though he had initially struggled with the weapon, long and thin and cumbersome compared to the heft of his hissing red blade, he would find himself assuming unfamiliar stances with the staff that felt strangely familiar, and he knew he was borrowing them, only for a moment or two, enough time to outwit and dominate whichever of his knights had sought fit to challenge him this time.

As they staggered to their feet, occasionally one would still grumble that they missed a “fair fight,” but the lingering sentiment remained: they did believe that Lord Ren had truly returned without the crackling, angry blade that seemed to hail his arrival before he entered a room. They could not trust this stranger. They would not obey a weak pretender with no weapon.

His bare elbows had grown sore from the cold, unforgiving floor where he stared intently at his three new tally marks, his fingers tracing the jagged lines ceaselessly.

Three days, no closer to finding Rey.

He pushed himself up and sat back cross-legged, staring at his work.

He had to hide himself again. He was letting his mask slip. Kylo Ren was growing more transparent by the day, revealing the even surfaces of Ben Solo. Rey’s Ben. He couldn’t simply slip back into the role he had once coveted; it might guarantee his safety to simply become a better pretender, but it was no way to get Rey back. That was infinitely more important. He needed more time, and he would never get it if he kept failing so visibly.

The solution came to him as he picked up the staff by his side, fingers tracing over the unusual edges of it.

His lightsaber.

He knew there was no chance of finding it. If he couldn’t find Rey or the Resistance, Force only knew where it was.

Building a new one wouldn't be easy. But it would buy him time. Time to get away, put the mask back on, hide his weakness in a veil of Darkness once more. Focus. Find her.

The First Order gave him so few opportunities to break free from official oversight now, not since they almost lost him the last time, but when it came to matters of the Force, things intangible and inexplicable to so many, they would doubtlessly give him space.

A lightsaber. An obvious solution he hadn’t thought to seek. He never thought he would find salvation in a weapon, but the alternative, becoming the mask he wore, was far worse.

The thought of crafting another saber filled him with its own sort of dread, but a strange resolve. Any action, anything he could do besides badgering his useless officers about whether they had picked up any meager crumb of intelligence about Rey’s location, felt better than what he had been doing. As it was, he was losing her more day by day.

He was losing himself.

It wouldn’t be too hard to find the planet Luke had taken him to for his other kyber crystal.

 _Soon, Rey. You won’t be lost forever,_ he thought, fingers dancing lovingly over the staff as if it were her skin.

_I’ll come back to you._

_I promised_

_._

Despite the relative size and scale of a First Order Super Star Destroyer, word traveled fast of the Supreme Leader’s mercy. Notes in personal logs turned into whispers over protein paste in the mess and then into muttered gossip between training exercises.

“...and then he flicked the bolt aside like a karking mosquito,” hissed AP-2932 around his locker door.

NI-1452 snickered, propping her elbow up on her helmet. “I heard the Captain shit himself on the spot.”

“I mean, can you blame him if he did? Kylo Ren is a damn monster!”

Soon every private, cadet and foot soldier in the First Order was talking about the redirected blaster bolt and SK-1828’s stayed execution. What did the Supreme Leader possibly have to gain from saving a low-ranking ‘trooper’s life? Why had he done it? What was he thinking?

Dark hours passed with whispered theories between bunkmates.

He’d only done it to irritate General Hux.

“I’ve seen him chuck the General into a wall at least four times. It wouldn’t surprise me for a second if he just wanted to piss Hux off.”

He had been trying to root out injustice within upper brass and Denebin had been found wanting.

“When you think about it, the way Denebin was handling the shit on-world...maybe SK-1828 had a point in calling out the Captain.”

“Man, this is all just too weird.”

SK-1828 was the Supreme Leader’s secret lover.

“Pfft, yeah, tell that to her girlfriends.”

Kylo Ren was going soft. Kylo Ren was going mad. Kylo Ren was, in direct contradiction to every prior assumption, human.

But in spite of the more fanciful ideas that found life in those late-night discussions, one important thought persisted.

“You faced Kylo Ren and lived, SK-1828! You’re a kriffin’ legend!” cheered YR-4481 over a mug of ale in the mess.

The ‘trooper turned a harrowed look on her comrade.

“No! No, it wasn’t like that at _all._ He…” She took a long draught of her own drink. “The Supreme Leader saved my life. If he hadn’t been there, I would be taking a long, cold walk out the airlock. I...I owe him everything.”

YR-4481 nodded solemnly and lifted his mug toward hers. “To the Supreme Leader.”

SK-1828 touched her drink to his.

“To Kylo Ren.”

Maybe there was a heart beating behind the black leather and the vocoder. Maybe he was a leader worth following.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my one regret with this series was, having experienced concussions first hand, that I was not more brutally accurate in fucking with Ben's head in Sighs of Fire.
> 
> Aaaaand we're back.
> 
> Get ready for more regular updates and come check up on progress and other rantings on Twitter:  
> @ladyschatelaine - theLadyoftheHouse/Em  
> @DianogaVee - KilltheseLights/Vee


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve told them everything, I’m no longer useful...Why wouldn’t they kill me?"

"Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,  
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,  
And made the most notorious geck and gull  
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why."

        Twelfth Night, or What You Will, V.I

* * *

The interesting thing about Crater base was, aside from the fact it was erected in the gaping crater drilled into Jedha's crust by an early Death Star test under the Empire, it was so massive that it was easy to miss fellow Resistance crew for days at a time. The sheer size of the place warranted two canteens and, while the upper one had better lunches, Rose found she enjoyed retreating to the early morning solitude of the lower canteen. She and Finn would eat their food in comfortable silence, trying to forget the many similar mornings spent on Takodana over the previous year, often with a more crowded breakfast table. 

For the moment, Rose presumed this was for the best. She sipped her caf in a gentle serenity, the morning chill chased away by the steaming beverage.  
  
Finn ate heartily, but joylessly. Such was the way lately. At first, she had tried to probe him, tried to assess his thoughts or distract him with her own, but they had been dating for almost two years.  
  
She knew it was best to say nothing at all, and they were both comfortable with that.  
  
However, their early morning solitude was interrupted by the sudden rattle of a tray being unceremoniously deposited onto the table beside Finn. She looked up and glared.

Poe cleared his throat awkwardly.  
  
"This, uh...this seat taken?" he said gruffly.

"Doesn't look like it."  
  
Finn aggressively speared his sausages with his fork, but didn't look up, Rose noted. She slurped her caf, excusing herself from any conversation for a few delicate moments.

"Thanks."  
  
Poe edged onto the bench next to Finn, keeping a careful distance between him and his friend. He pushed the food around on his plate, the silence heavy and reeking like a thick slice of rotting meat on the center of the table.  
  
"Some base, huh?" Poe finally said, a little too quickly to be casual. "Feels like I haven't seen you two in weeks."

Finn, usually a rapid eater, seemed determined for a personal best and didn't reply until he had finished his eggs.  
  
"You haven't," he muttered.  
  
Rose raised her eyebrows but said nothing as she placed her mug down. She began to toy with her jogan fruit when Finn stood up abruptly and grabbed his tray. It was unlike him to leave breakfast unfinished, but she couldn't feign surprise at him wanting to disappear.

Poe's forehead scrunched as he watched Finn storm off.  
  
"Kriff, was it something I said? What's wrong with him?"

"You tell me." Rose picked at the fruit's bright purple skin. "I'm not allowed to know."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Poe huffed.

"You're interrogating one of our best friends. You brought Finn into it." She finally looked at the older man, fire and steel in her glare. "Isn't the investigation supposed to be confidential?"  
  
The base was large and terribly lonely, and Rose couldn't believe she caught herself being nostalgic for how cramped Takodana was once she felt the permanent absence of her closest friend.  
  
Added to this loneliness was the secret she carried.  
  
Looking back now, Rey's confession felt like a ghost sighting: a rare, unbelievable thing that was only a hint at a mysterious, inexplicable world.  
  
She'd remembered the General's arrival on Takodana, and the solemn summons for all personnel to report to the base. They were told little of what to expect — suspected traitor in our midst — and she'd felt her chest tighten. She knew right away what they meant.

The moments that had followed passed before her like an excruciating shipwreck in slow motion.  
  
She knew the truth. She knew Rey was in love. This new information was harder to stomach.  
  
But as Rose watched Finn sleep beside her, she stared at the faint marks along his back and shoulders, marks she knew the delicate feel of, scars the doctors swore would fade in enough time.  
  
Rey had described the man she loved with such plain tenderness it was hard to overlay that image onto Kylo Ren, the monster that had carved those scars, but eventually, she mapped them together.  
  
Rey had loved him. She'd betrayed the Resistance for that love.  
  
Rose watched Finn's torso rise and fall in his sleep. She'd do the same for him. Of that, she had no doubt.  
  
Perhaps Rey was delusional, but Rose refused to believe that. Whoever Kylo Ren was to Rey, he wasn't the Kylo Ren the galaxy knew.  
  
Rose didn't know what to do with this sacred knowledge, that she had been the only one Rey had told about her secret love on Takodana, or whether this information would help her friend. But she sure as hell wasn't telling Poe before she finished her caf.

Poe grimaced and returned to picking at his food.  
  
"She's a traitor, Rose," he growled. "She forfeited her right to any pulled punches when she sided with that monster. Finn did a lot of good in that interrogation. He cracked her when no one else could. I'm not going to apologize for doing what needed to be done."

"She's not a traitor,” Rose spat. “She's _Rey_. You know her. She's the same girl who got everyone off of Crait."  
  
Rose, of course, hadn't been conscious when it happened, but she felt that made her point even stronger: if even she knew what Rey had done for the Resistance, then she can't be that much of a traitor...or any of the other names she’d heard thrown around the base. She suppressed a shudder before continuing.  
  
"And if this one thing is going to completely destroy your capacity to regard her with even an ounce of humanity, then maybe I can understand why Finn's not talking to you."

“‘This one thing’? She’s been lying to my face since the moment I met her,” he snarled, crouched low across the table. He straightened up a second later, trying to compose himself. “Finn will come around eventually. He’ll see my reasons. He’s a soldier too.”  
  
Poe went to take a bit of porridge but dropped the spoon and shoved the tray aside with a frustrated huff.  
  
"She was lying to you since you met her? What, were her first words to you 'My name's Rey and I have never seen Kylo Ren before in my life'?" Rose laughed bitterly. "You _know_ Rey. She loves us." She refused to use the past tense; a fact not lost on Poe.  
  
"She wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt us. In fact, did you ever consider that she might have done all of this to protect us?"

He flinched minutely; his jaw tight.  
  
“Rose, I don’t want to get into this with you right now,” he ground out. “I’m sorry that Finn’s having a hard time, but he’ll be fine. It’s probably just stress. I get it.”

"It's stress? Is that what you call it? Because he won't tell me what happened." Rose felt weeks of anger finally, _finally_ bubbling out of her. "I don't know what you made him do, what you made him say that made her shatter, but since you had him interrogate Rey, he hasn't been the same."

She leveled a glare at the man. "Rey was like family to Finn. The only one either of them had. And you used that against her. Against both of them."

Poe started to get up, grabbing his tray and shaking his head.  
  
“I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. This is my investigation. I used what resources were available to me. End of story.”

She shifted in her seat, stretching her legs out on the bench beside her and considering the contents of her mug.

"Finn can't sleep at night," Rose said flatly. "He rolls over and pretends, but I know better. He just stares at the ceiling, thinking. He's haunted."  
  
She looked at Poe. "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone. You're right. But tell me something: how have _you_ been sleeping?"

A long beat of unspoken accusations passed between them. Rose thought for a moment that she could see something like guilt cloud Poe Dameron’s handsome face. But then it was gone behind the mask of the Captain.  
  
He swallowed dryly and turned to walk out of the canteen.

 

 

Sunlight, real sunlight, sliced through her eyelids and seared across her cheek. Rey sat up with a start, Captain Ræh still cradled in the crook of her elbow. She clutched the little pilot closer to her breast as the light, blinding and beautiful, streamed into her cell—no, her _room_ —and illuminated her surroundings.  
  
The carpet was old and threadbare, worn through to the rock in some places, but still better than naked stone beneath her sore feet. The curtain closing off the fresher was tattered at the bottom edge. And the windows...she had _windows_ now. They were too high for her to see out of them, but the light could still make its way in, cutting across the floor.  
  
Time had disappeared in the hole. The windows brought it back. She wondered if this was a blessing or a curse. Now she could mark the loneliness. She could quantify the isolation. The knowledge was chilling.

A small tray of food caught her eye near the door and she cautiously got up to investigate it, still toting her stuffed companion. It was a bowl of cold mush and another small jogan fruit, she noted with a pang. She hadn’t had the chance to eat the last one she was given, too fearful of the possibility of poison and too distraught to stop crying. This one, however, this one she would not waste. And if they had poisoned it, then she would die with a sweet taste in her mouth.

Intellectually she knew that these fears of her impending execution were not helping her mental well-being. That knowledge did nothing to stave off the dread that formed a cold pit in her empty stomach. She had been moved from the hole into a place with far more creature comforts. Something had changed after the last interrogation. She wracked her brain for a reason for all of this. What had she given up to them to earn this? Or was this a final kindness for a dead woman walking?

A moment later, the grate on the bottom of the door opened again, and a small bundle slid into the room. Rey jolted at the sudden intrusion, then relaxed. More food, a fresh canteen of water, and some grey fabric: new clothes, she realized. She could not know how long it had been since she had slept this late, but she had apparently dozed through breakfast and into the midday mealtime.

She picked at the food, unable to stomach more than a few bites besides the fruit, sweet and juicy (and unpolluted). Reluctant to be parted from her little friend, she gently set the doll upright on the bed as she shucked off the thin gown she had been wearing. She looked down at herself, bare in the puddle of sunshine.  
  
It had been a long time since her hip bones were so prominent and her ribs so visible. Her knees were scabbed and rough, her joints bruised and knobby. Muscles giving way to bone. Scrawny again.  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so pale, Ræh,” she muttered hoarsely in the doll’s direction.  
  
She turned her face toward the window where the sunlight brushed against her cheek with a soft finger. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine a murmuring behind it.  
  
_Still beautiful_ , it whispered in a deep, kind voice, that finger of light trailing delicately down her neck and over her collarbone. _Still my Rey._

Her eyes snapped open again and flicked around the room, her heart pounding. She looked back at Captain Ræh, covering her chest with her arms.  
  
“I think I might be going a bit mad,” she breathed.  
  
The doll made no reply.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear her head, she strolled over to the ramshackle refresher in the corner of the room and began to toy with the knobs on the shower, turning them this way and that until a slow trickle of water began to flow. Standing in the chilly stream, her skin bristling at the temperature, she faintly remembered her last real shower; not a scrub-down in her old cell, the water in the basin getting murkier and dirtier with every pass of her sponge, but the last time she'd felt water like this.  
  
She could almost smell the trees, remember the life around her in the forest. She tilted her face to the water, and she could remember Ben's arms around her, wet, bare skin pressed against bare skin.  
  
Her tears mixed with the shower water, and she slumped to the ground in frustration. She curled up into a ball running her fingers through her wet, impossibly tangled hair, the cuffs scraping against her scalp.  
  
Somehow these luxuries were starting to feel more painful than deprivation had.  
  
Moments later, she heard the door slide open. She half-heartedly uncurled herself and peered around the curtain—let them execute her naked, for all she cared. She would not have to live with the shame for long, after all, and she was a relative newcomer to shame to begin with.  
  
However, she was greeted by the sight of her metal guards, standing patiently in the middle of the room for her.  
  
"Interrogation time already?" she muttered at them, turning away and returning to a ball under the stream of water.  
  
"No, Mistress," one of the droids replied slowly. "Exercise."

The reply made her whip her head back out around the curtain.  
  
“...what?” she squeaked.

The droid’s response was surprising for two reasons: she was under the impression her guards were unable to speak and were only good for dragging her to more ceaseless questioning. But _exercise?_

"You were prescribed a fitness regimen that we are obliged to discharge," the taller, bronze droid added. "Or, what is more colloquially called 'leading you in circles.'"  
  
"Giving you some air," the shorter, darker droid added. "Taking our prisoner for a walk. Your choice, Mistress. Either way, we can go whenever you are ready."  
  
After a beat the droid continued.  
  
"So please hurry up."

“Oh,” she mumbled. “A-alright. Sorry.”  
  
She ducked back into the fresher and scrubbed herself down as thoroughly and as quickly as she could. The towel that had been left for her was small and more holes than fabric, but it did the job.  
  
“Um, excuse me, could one of you pass me my clothes?”

A moment later the pile of new clothes that appeared through the door was presented to her by a mechanical hand.

“Thank you. What is your designation?”

The droid paused. "Do not worry about it," it replied, in a voice that was almost shy.

"I am M4-7T, and this is 8R-U5H,” the bronze droid interjected. “Do pardon my friend. He is unused to speaking with humanoids. This is the first time he has used his vocalizer in months.”

"I did not mind being muted. There was no pressure to engage," 8R-U5H muttered.

 She smiled to herself as she changed. Her new accommodations afforded her a loose grey linen top, likely intended for someone larger, and too-short pants likely meant for someone much smaller. At least now she felt more covered.  
  
“I won’t force you to speak if you don’t want to, Aytar. If you feel like it later, that’s alright with me.”  
  
She stopped herself.  
  
“That is, if I’m not...”  
  
_Dead by tomorrow._

"Not what?" Emfor probed. "Too tired from us dragging you around the base?"

“...sure.”  
  
“I do not mind speaking,” Aytar said. “I simply do not find myself or my companion particularly interesting conversationalists. However, we will suffice for your needs, I assure you. It is in our programming.”  
  
She was quiet for a moment as she combed her fingers through her wet hair.  
  
“What planet is this? I think they told me it wasn’t Jakku but...but I might have imagined it.”

"Ha! No, though the terrain may appear similar, the mineral composition of Jakku is surprisingly different from our current location," Aytar said.

She exhaled slowly. Not Jakku. She hadn’t quite believed it when the cold voice of her interrogator had denied it before.  
  
She came out of the fresher, ducking past them to tuck Captain Ræh under her pillow. She stroked a shaky finger over the soft linen of the pilot’s face and tried to hold back the fear that she would never see the doll again. She sighed and proffered her wrists.  
  
“Ready when you are,” she said quietly.

The droids parted, welcoming Rey between them, and offered her a hand each, which linked magnetically to her cuffs.  
  
"You are going to like it here," Emfor stated. "It is a good base."

She nodded silently as the cuffs clanked dully against her guards’ plating. She appreciated the sentiment, but given her prior treatment and current situation, she somehow doubted it.  
  
They made for the door when she stopped abruptly just before the threshold.  
  
“You would tell me, right?” she said, her voice small. “If you were taking me to my execution?”

The droids looked at each other with glances resembling human incredulity.  
  
"Why do you think we would be doing that?" Aytar asked.

“They took me out of the hole. They...they gave me back sunlight and the doll and the clothes...it feels like final mercies.”  
  
She sniffed through her trembling voice.  
  
“I’ve told them everything, I’m no longer useful...Why _wouldn’t_ they kill me?"

"You do not know your value, do you, Mistress?" Aytar asked softly.

"What else can they take from me?" she asked blankly. "There's nothing left. What value can I possibly have now?”

"It is not what they want _from_ you," Emfor said as they began walking forward. "It _is_ you. Who you are, what you know, who you know. You are very important, from what we hear."  
  
"Though we really do not know much," Aytar confessed. "We are not told much about the prisoners we supervise, and our programming is to adjust our attention based on observed need, not on any particular knowledge of crimes committed. They do not want us to be biased. Even though it is not in our programming to be biased."  
  
"But we like you most, anyway.”  
  
"Agreed. But we are not supposed to tell her that."

Emfor gave something resembling a mechanical shrug. "We are just told when and where to escort you, and to make sure you are not plotting to escape or terminate yourself."  
  
"What happened that put you in here?" Aytar asked idly. "That might have something to do with why you are here and receiving good treatment. However, we are scheduled to supervise you indefinitely, so it would seem that no execution has been programmed yet. I hope that helps."

She nodded faintly, sniffling and stumbling along between them. They seemed to notice and slowed down to match her pace.  
  
"I...I'm a traitor. I've been accused of harboring the S—"  
  
She couldn't finish the name. That wasn't him. Not anymore. Maybe not even at the time that he crashed, muzzled and masked.  
  
"I betrayed the Resistance...I believed that I had a good enough reason. I don't know if that's still true anymore."

"Oh, that is a shame," Aytar said as indifferently as if she had just stated that her breakfast had been too cold.  
  
"I am sure it is not that serious," Emfor added cheerfully. "You seem like a nice human. Not all prisoners are as accommodating as you. Though, to be fair, you are our first Resistance prisoner. You are setting a good example for the rest, certainly."  
  
"If you believe you betrayed the Resistance for a good reason, I am sure someone else must agree. That is why you are here and not dead," Aytar concluded.

Her face softened and the corner of her mouth quirked up ever so slightly. They walked quietly for a while.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For being so kind to me.”

"Do not mention it," Aytar said. "Really, if anyone asks, do not mention it, please. Our reassurances might be going beyond our programming."  
  
"I am pleased that they enabled our vocalizers again," Emfor exclaimed. "Silently leading around a terrified prisoner day-in and day-out seemed inappropriate. That is not judging you, Mistress. Our scanners just sensed you were worried."

They walked a little more before she noticed something.  
  
“I thought I heard voices when they moved me. Are there others on this base?”

"Yes, this is the Resistance's primary base of operations," Emfor said.

“Then...where is everybody? We’ve been walking for a while now, even if this base were enormous, we’d have to run into someone by now.” 

"I am not at liberty to say much, but this is a very large facility, Mistress, with many distinct corridors," Emfor said.  
  
"I am at liberty to say more," Aytar interjected. "You are in isolation as part of the terms of your imprisonment."

She whipped her head around to look at the smaller droid, stumbling a bit over her feet. Her stomach turned.  
  
“W-w-what do you mean, ‘isolation’?” she stammered. “How...that’s not possible, in my interrogations I—“  
  
Then it hit her.  
  
When was the last time she had seen another life form’s face? Her mind raced across foggy memories of overlapping interviews that never seemed to end, litanies of questions from a voice whose owner she had never seen. Finn’s pained expression had been invisible to her, but he may as well have been standing in front of her for how vividly she imagined it. The last face she remembered seeing was the General’s stricken face before the long sleep. The holo last night had been too grainy to discern much more than a few dark blotches where facial features should have been. Even the droids were nondescript enough for her to be unable to find a face on either of them.  
  
She staggered mid-stride and she could feel the blood drain from her own face.  
  
Alone. Forgotten. Discarded. Again.

"There were negotiations about that, mind you, and the greatest concession is that we are now allowed to speak with you. I think we are fairly good company, Mistress," Aytar said cheerfully.

They crossed through a sunbeam and the heat of it made her realize just how cold she felt.  
  
_Keep walking, cyar’ika. Keep going, my strong, beautiful girl. You will survive this._  
  
She didn’t know if that was true anymore. Even on Jakku, there had been brief points of contact with living beings to break up the loneliness, no matter how repugnant they were. This was a far more thorough form of torture.  
  
“...who ordered it?” she said quietly, once her voice had returned to her.

Aytar hesitated.  
  
"It is against my protocol—"  
  
"Captain Dameron," Emfor interrupted. "This time it is not against mine."

Something like rage roiled in her gut. She had told Poe what she had grown up with. He had tucked her under his arm while she sniffed through the quiet confession of her abandonment and trauma. He had hugged her close as Finn squeezed her hand and Rose wiped her eyes and he had told her that he wouldn't let it happen again. He _knew_. And he had ordered it anyway. Because he knew it would hurt her. He _wanted_ to hurt her.  
  
She felt sick.  
  
"I would like to go back to my room now, please." Her voice was brittle.

The droids stopped abruptly.  
  
"But Mistress, you have barely completed your one hour of mandated exercise," Emfor protested.  
  
"Look at her. She is unhappy. You upset her by talking too much," Aytar chided. "Mistress, what can we do to make you feel better?"

She shook her head. "I just want to go back to my room, please."

"Besides that. We are not permitted to do that, not yet. You need sunlight and exercise. There have been numerous studies attesting to the benefits of regular ultraviolet exposure for carbon-based lifeforms and..." Aytar’s tinny voice hollowed out to a low ringing in her ears.

Were she not already attached to her guards, they could have led her by a shimmersilk thread. She was utterly drained. But it was just an hour. If she could survive this hour, she could survive the pain gnawing at her insides.  
  
"...you're right, Aytar," she mumbled, cutting his lecture short. "Maybe some sunshine will do me some good."  
  
She grimaced something that might have been a smile once. Whatever it was, it didn't come anywhere near her eyes.  
  
"Lead on."

Trudging through the sloping layers of rocky terrain, the droids came upon another door at last, opening it up and bringing Rey out into the bright afternoon sunlight.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness of the light on the sand and stone as they lead her out to a small, open yard on one of the upper levels of the crater, but once they did, her heart stopped beating.  
  
She grew up in the desert. Mirages were an everyday occurrence. She knew better than to follow one where it beckoned. But that was Jakku. That was before the Force. That was before Ben.  
  
He towered just ahead of her, a beautiful shadow amidst a swirling sea of burnt orange. His cloak billowed around him, glimpses of red catching her gaze, and he turned to face her. Gone was the mask and when his warm eyes met hers, he grinned, wide and crooked and...happy. He held out a bare hand to her, an invitation.  
  
She vaguely heard Emfor and Aytar unhooking her cuffs from themselves and warning her about something. They were a thousand miles away from the man before her.  
  
She took a step forward, her eyes fixed on him, standing tall and whole and strong. She stretched a shaking hand out to him as she walked, faster and faster.

 _I’m here, cyar’ika,_ he whispered. _I’m always with you._

“Ben,” she gasped, reaching for his fingers.  
  
The earth shook and the ground beneath her feet cracked open and she stumbled as a frosted wind blasted her backward. She had only been that cold one other place: Starkiller. She looked down and the sand had frozen over into snow, so cold in spite of the yawning chasm before her. Her eyes darted back up, searching for Ben amidst the charred trees. He was on the other side of the pit, still smiling, still reaching for her.  
  
_I’m here, my love, I’m here,_ he said gently despite the destruction between them.  
  
“Ben!” she shouted.  
  
She eyed the crack, the magma bubbling in the core of the planet. She judged the distance in a split second, old sense memories of salvages long past flaring to life in her atrophied muscles. She could make it. She had to make it.

Her feet moved, her steps sure as she bolted for the man she loved.  
  
A pair of metal arms wrapped around her middle just as she made to launch herself towards the edge of a cliff.

"Oh dear," M4-7T said yanking Rey back by her middle, her knees buckling beneath her and the air whooshing out of her.  
  
"I did not think we had a runner," Aytar muttered. "Mistress, what compelled you to thrust yourself bodily off a cliff?"

She blinked rapidly, disoriented. She couldn’t shake the chill that had settled in her bones or the silent tear that had slipped down her cheek. The air off the plateau was dry and cool, but not cold the way that the snowy wind had been a moment before.  
  
He was gone. Nothing more than a mirage. A vivid and cruel dream brought on by a fractured mind. She’d finally gone insane.  
  
She slumped in Emfor’s grip, trying to find her breath again.  
  
“I saw...” she began, gasping and barely audible, still searching the air for the shade. “He was...he was right there, I could’ve...could’ve touched him.”

She thought back to her room that afternoon, to the soft touch of sunlight in the shape of her lover’s fingerprints, to the deep voice that called from the nearest stream of light. After so long in a dark hole, why wouldn’t her desperate mind look for him at the edge of every shadow? Why wouldn’t she hallucinate an impossible rescue the first time she’d been outside in months? Who would blame her for her madness?

"Oh," Aytar said. "Well, that is concerning. Mistress, my scanners indicate that there are no lifeforms in range. None, except for you."  
  
She looked up at the droid’s blank faceplate. Emfor and Aytar were kind, friendly even. But she didn’t know who they reported to, or if they would tell someone about this incident. She didn’t have much hope for release, but she doubted that any sign of mental incapacity would help her already hopeless case. She had to be careful if she could.  
  
“Can I go back to my room now, please?” Her voice sounded so young in her own ears.

"Certainly, Mistress," Emfor said. "There is no need to take a flying leap."  
  
"It is important to discontinue the prescribed exercise if a prisoner is not feeling well enough to proceed. Do you need additional assistance in returning to your room?" Aytar asked, metallic hands coming to rest on Rey's shoulders. “We can get a mobility aid if you cannot move on your own.”

She flinched out from under Aytar’s hands and out of Emfor’s arms, her skin buzzing unpleasantly at the contact. Her insides felt too large for the skin containing them and she wanted to crawl out of her body and back into her puddle of sunshine.

“No, I just...I’m suddenly very tired.” She forced a thin smile. “Thank you though, both of you. You’ve been very kind to me. I think it’s more than I deserve.”

"There is no need to thank us," Emfor said.  
  
"It is in our programming." Aytar completed the statement. "Let us depart."

They led her back to her room in the nonjudgmental silence that she appreciated most about droids. They didn’t comment on her attempted flight from custody, nor did they question her sanity. She had enough of that in her own head.  
  
They bid her a pleasant evening and encouraged her to get some rest before locking her in. Even despite their kindness towards her, she was still a prisoner. She wouldn’t be allowed to forget that fact.  
  
She pulled Captain Ræh out of her hiding place and sat down in the nearest puddle of fading sunshine with the doll in her lap. Anticipation and fear clung to her as she got comfortable. What if she saw him again? What if she was right? What if she had gone insane and hallucinated again?

_...would that be so bad?_

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
And she waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you figured out who the Sorutas are analogues for, but we are at that point in our writing careers where we stopped being intellectual and started blatantly basing our sassy robo-guards after our boyfriends  
> bleep bloop  
> neither of them are reading this so we could get away with it but if they actually see what we've done  
> Hahaha hi honey
> 
>  
> 
> This was an apology update for the long hiatus. Next one won't be so soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hello Rey. Sorry we had to meet like this."
> 
> “...what do you want from me?”

Rose's heartbeat hammered in her head, and she had to press her back against the gritty rock wall to steady herself. Not much longer now.  
  
A moment later, the door nearby slid open, and she closed her eyes, drawing in a sharp breath, her courage vacating her.  
  
_Rey won't mind this will help it will be fine you gotta tell her tell her NOW_.

She could hear the murmurs of Leia exchanging parting words with someone from her meeting. The whisper of skirts dragging against the rock floor of the hallway revealed that the General was dressed for diplomacy, not battle today. Rose’s eyes snapped open and she turned to glance at the woman purposefully walking away.  
  
She'd kick herself if she'd waited in this chilly, dusty corridor for this long to let her go.  
  
She didn't have any more time to waste.  
  
Swallowing her fear, she turned and began to race down the corridor after Leia.  
  
"GENERAL ORGANA," she shouted, far louder than she intended.  
_  
Kriff.  
  
_Leia halted, far more gracefully than Rose could ever manage, and turned to face the younger woman. As did the entire population of the corridor.

The General cocked an eyebrow with a mildly amused expression.  
  
“Rose,” she said wryly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rose felt the blood rushing to her face.  
  
"Sorry," she squeaked. "I didn't mean to ambush you like that."  
  
She had, of course, intended to ambush her, but not like _that_.  
  
"I was wondering if I could have a word?"

“Of course. Walk with me.”  
  
The two women fell into step beside one another, continuing down the hallway.  
  
“What’s on your mind, Rose?”

Rose's heart raced. Words threatened to abandon her.  
  
"General," she began carefully. "It's about Rey."

If Leia was in any way shocked by this line of conversation, she didn’t show it, unfaltering in her steps.  
  
“What about Rey?”

"I...General, before she was arrested...I talked to Rey, alone, and well..." Rose paused and took a deep breath.  
  
"I know what I’m telling you is a long time in coming, and it might very well get me locked up in a cell right next to hers. I'm afraid I've been...keeping a secret. Something Rey told me in private. I promised to keep it a secret for her, and..."  
  
She trailed off, and met the General's steady gaze.  
  
"I just feel...I feel like it's important that _somebody_ knows."

Leia paused her brisk pace, regarding the younger woman with firm but gentle scrutiny.  
  
“I’m glad you came to me. I’m trying to help Rey’s case, and frankly, anything you can give me might be a real boon.”

Rose closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing thoughts.  
  
"Look, I know this whole thing is unbelievable to some people. A _lot_ of people around here, in fact. But I saw Rey earlier that day, the day you arrived on Takodana. I confronted her about something that had been bothering me, about how she was always running off and disappearing..."  
  
She opened her eyes again, looking at the General, ever so regal, but so, so bruised by the galaxy.  
  
"And she told me...she admitted to me she was in love. She'd met this person while on a mission, and they couldn't be together, but she was so genuine and honest. I _know_ that there was no one in her head controlling her or making her tell me this. It was just the two of us. I asked her for the truth, and she gave me as much as she could bear. I think she was relieved to finally tell someone what was happening.”

She paused, faltering for a moment under Leia’s focus.

“Rey loves. She loves deeply. But she’s been hurt, and badly. She’s too used to being alone. I get why she doesn’t always open up. And in this case, well..."  
  
Rose tugged at her pendant. "I know it doesn't mean a lot to many people, especially since now we know she meant Kylo Ren, but she was so...sincere. She swore to me over and over she was in love but scared. Scared of what it meant, scared of losing him..."  
  
She trailed off again.  
  
"I promised to keep her secret, but now I guess I'm a traitor too."

Leia took Rose’s rough hand and squeezed reassuringly.  
  
“You’re not a traitor, Rose,” she said gruffly. “You didn’t know.”  
  
The General ruminated for a moment.  
  
“You haven’t told anyone about this for the last three months? If you would indulge me: why tell me now? What’s changed?”

Rose sighed.  
  
"I don't know what's happened to her, General, but I know what everyone is saying." She dropped her voice. "I've heard the whispers, and traitor or not, she's still my friend. I can’t let her do this alone."  
  
Rose fumbled with her pendant again.  
  
"I know she's guilty, and I'm probably just as guilty as she is, but..."  
  
She looked away.  
  
"I'm not sure what I was expecting, honestly. I just wanted to tell someone that for whatever it's worth...Rey told me the truth. She might have left out who it was she was in love with, but she was keeping him a secret...out of love. It’s the only kind of love a scavenger like her knows, I guess: keep things special to you secret and hidden so no one can take them away from you.”  
  
She took a deep breath, trying to still her heart, which had started to race again. “She's not a bad person. She didn’t harbor him because she’s actively trying to destroy the Resistance or hurt anyone. I think...I think she may have been trying to do the opposite. Trying to protect us by getting Kylo Ren on our side, or whatever. Changing his heart. Making him an ally. I don’t know if it could ever work, but..."  
  
She sighed, then met the General's steely gaze.  
  
"I just...I've seen what this has done to us. All of the Resistance. It’s made good people hard, mean, distrusting. And I don't like it. That’s not the Resistance that Paige and I joined up with. I want you, at least, to know that she told me the truth when there was nothing in it for either of us. She's a good person still. I really believe that, no matter what it costs me."

Something in the General’s stomach clenched and her eyes stung faintly. She gripped Rose’s hand tighter.  
  
“You’re a good friend. Rey needs good friends like you on this base. I don’t know what we can do with this information yet, but I’m glad you told me.”  
  
She exhaled heavily as the same old weariness shifted on her shoulders. It was getting harder to carry these days, now that Han and Luke were gone. But the earnestness that radiated from Rose Tico was enough to keep the weight from clinging too closely. Sometimes even Leia Organa needed to be reminded that there was still hope for the lost causes.

"So I guess that means you're not going to court-martial me?" Rose asked hopefully.

Leia chuckled. “Not on your life, Tico.”

Rose sighed.  
  
“And Rey?” She paused. “I know you’re still working on her case but...can you tell me what’s going to happen to her? Anything at all?”

 Leia's brow furrowed and she released a heavy exhale.

"I wish I knew. I really do."

Her face crumpled further, guilt etched into every line around her eyes and sorrow hiding in the creases by her mouth.

 "This whole ordeal has taken a steep toll on her,” the General admitted. “She's been broken pretty thoroughly. I’m trying to intervene on her behalf, but they’re fighting me tooth and claw every step of the way. I don't know what will happen from here. But I'm going to do my best for her. It's all I _can_ do."

"Whatever I can do...just let me know if I can help?" Rose whispered. "She would do the same for me. For any of us. Even Kylo Ren."

She shook her head, trying to forget the horrible holos she'd seen of the Supreme Leader, and imagine instead the man worthy of her best friend's affection. She’d heard the stories of him emerging from his command shuttle on Crait to fight Luke Skywalker while she’d been unconscious. These tales did nothing to paint a gloss on the warlord.

"We can't let her rot in a cell. I know that much."

"I had her moved to more humane accommodations last night," Leia assured her with a small smile. "Somewhere with windows and sunshine. It's just the first step, but hopefully, it's one in the right direction."

 

The next several days quickly fell into a routine. Rey would awaken as soon as the sun crossed her face and rise to nibble on whatever food had come through her door. Around midday she guessed, M4-7T and 8R-U5H would come to collect her for her walk and find her sitting patiently in the sunniest spot in the room. After that first day out, the droids made sure to keep her as far away from cliffs as possible, depositing her instead in a courtyard somewhere within the base. If anything, she felt more exposed in that courtyard than she did on the bare plateau.  
  
Every so often during that designated hour outside, she would hear whispers in the shadowy alcoves surrounding the courtyard. At first, she thought it was more of the same fits of madness that had almost sent her careening to her death. But then she started to listen to them.  
  
“Traitor.”  
  
“Monster.”  
  
“Slut.”  
  
“Betrayer.”  
  
“Whore.”  
  
“Trash.”  
  
She shook it off as more cruel tricks of her battered mind. When Emfor and Aytar retrieved her, she would return to her silent, sun-dappled vigil on the floor. When the light died, she climbed into bed and let the night close around her.

Emfor and Aytar arrived long after the world outside went dark. Rey had curled up in bed with Captain Ræh and was dozing when the droids appeared in her doorway.

“Bit late for exercise isn’t it, boys?” she said with a slight yawn.

“You have an appointment, Mistress Rey,” Emfor said flatly.

“I do? With whom?”

In lieu of an answer, they pulled her gently to her feet and linked her wrists to themselves.

“It is nothing to be worried about, Mistress,” Aytar said to soothe her. “They will explain when we get there.”

It was a brisk walk down the same dusty old hallway as always. She almost expected to take the turn for the courtyard, but the droids steered her to the left.

Her stomach churned in apprehension. She hadn’t been questioned since her move to the new room. She had almost thought that maybe they were done with her, content to let her live out the rest of her existence alone in a room with nothing but droids and the sunlight and her memories for company. She had been a fool to think it would be so easy.

The shadows in the corners of the hallway seemed to grow and darken as they moved, reaching out with wispy fingers to grasp teasingly at the ends of her hair and the hem of her shirt. This felt too much like those timeless interrogations from before when she had been dragged from her cell at any and all hours in order to disorient her. It was working again, and Rey couldn’t stop the dread wriggling in her guts.

They arrived at that familiar durasteel door and she took a long breath. Once again, they deposited her in the lonely chair in the center of the room, uncoupling themselves from her cuffs.

“We will collect you when you are finished,” Emfor promised and with little else to say, the droids departed, the door sliding closed behind them.

In the silence, she regarded the warped reflection in the wall of black glass ahead of her. She looked...better. Her knees were starting to heal up, the circles under her eyes were lightening, and her pallid skin had begun to take on a bit more of its old glow thanks to her sunlight vigils. But her eyes were still dull and hollow when she could gather the courage to look into them, and her frame was still far more fragile than she should have been.

She sighed, the empty air echoing in the spaces between her ribs. Nothing to be done for it now. There was no point.

So she waited in the silence and avoided her reflected gaze.

After a moment, a voice punctured the silence.  
  
"Hello Rey," General Organa said. "Sorry we had to meet like this."

All the breath left Rey’s body in a burst of air and she tried to stem the sob of a laugh that nearly broke from her mouth.  
  
“G-General?” she mumbled. “It’s so—so good to hear your voice.”  
  
Then she remembered why she was here.  
  
“...what do you want from me?”

"Well," the General began haltingly. "I'm sure you are sick of interrogations and dark rooms, but I've brought you here for another interrogation in a darkish room. I'm sorry about this, I really am. But this one is a little different. It's just us."  
  
"And me," a familiar voice intoned. The interrogator. "I'm also sorry about this, Rey. I know you're not a big fan of mine, but it's one of the conditions of our interview."  
  
"Azwe is here just as a formality, " Leia explained. "Poe's only condition for me getting to speak to you. I can't ask any questions."  
  
"But I can. Understand?" Azwe concluded.

Rey swallowed. "I see..."  
  
She shifted in her seat, trying to shake the anxiety that lingered in her bones. This would be different. The voice—Azwe—didn't sound cold the way that she had in her previous interrogations. And the General was there. This was going to be different. She just had to keep breathing.  
  
"Azwe, is it?" Rey said hoarsely. "Good to finally put a name to the, uh, voice, I guess."

"You can relax, dear," Leia said. "We are on your side. We just need to know more about my son. Whatever you can tell me about him. I want to bring him home, Rey. But I need to know what you know."

 _Breathe._  
  
"...Where do you want me to start?"

"As far back as you can," Azwe replied. "The Resistance saw Ky—Ben carrying you away on Takodana when he was looking for the map to Skywalker. Was that your first meeting? Before you were taken to Starkiller?"

Rey nodded. "Yes. He chased me and BB-8 into the woods and then...I woke up in an interrogation room."  
  
She gave a dry little laugh.  
  
"Seems to be a trend with me."

"What's a nice girl like you ending up in interrogation chambers so often?" Leia chuckled, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Rey smiled weakly, little more than a twitch of lips vaguely upward.

Azwe rolled into another series of questions, analytic and clinical about the events on Starkiller Base, the minutiae of Rey’s escape, how she and Finn had escaped to the forest and faced down a wounded Kylo Ren. Rey answered simply, but the words felt meaningless. They couldn’t explain Ben, the Force, what existed between them. Her brow creased as she tried to piece together the thoughts swirling in her head. So many turning points, so many stolen moments and murmured promises and impossible connections. How could she quantify any of it?  
  
Azwe had asked a question Rey hadn’t heard. The interrogator repeated herself.

“I can’t do this,” Rey whispered.

The glass wall was silent.

“I’m sorry?” came Azwe’s surprise.

Rey shook her head limply, her fingers curling into fists in her lap.

“I can’t do this anymore. No more interrogations. I’m done. I’m tired...I’m so tired. I just...there is only one other person in this galaxy who knows what was between us and I…” She swallowed heavily, trying to fight the urge to hyperventilate. “...I might never see him again. I can’t... _hold_ all of this by myself. I don’t have the strength anymore.”

“I don’t—”

“Please, Azwe, General,” she pleaded, her hands coming up in a desperate gesture. “Just...just let me talk. Let me tell you what I know, and you can stop me if you need clarification, but I cannot take another question. I’m done. I need help to hold this...please. Just listen. No one else has.”

There was silence behind the glass again.

When the two women finally came to a consensus, it was the General who spoke. “Alright, Rey. Go ahead. Take your time.”

Rey exhaled a grateful breath and, seemingly steadying herself, continued her story.  
  
"During the interrogation, he...well for lack of a better explanation, he went into my mind to try to find the map, since BB-8 had shown it to me. He kept going deeper and deeper, but I fought back. I pushed him out of my head, but I pushed too far and went into his for a moment."  
  
That moment. That mad, impossible moment when his thoughts and emotions first became hers. Their minds had only touched for a minute or two, but that brush of consciousness rang out in the universe like two pieces of crystal singing together. The first time she had seen him, who he had been and who he could be.  
  
"I saw...I saw everything. For just a moment. I saw his anger, his conflict, his fear. His loudest fear was that he'd never be as strong as Darth Vader."  
  
She thought she could feel the air leave the room on the other side of the glass at that cursed name.  
  
"And then he left. I escaped and didn't see him again until..." Until Han. She couldn't say it out loud. But Leia knew. No need to bring back more of the dead tonight.  
  
"I can't really put it into words, but when we were in the forest, when we fought, it was like I could feel his mind again." She shrugged. "Before that battle, I'd never held a lightsaber. I barely knew the Force. But I suddenly knew how to fight. I held my own. I _beat_ him."  
  
She looked up apologetically at where she assumed the General was standing. "I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me for carving up your son's face, General. It's one hell of a scar."

"Nothing to forgive. He deserved it," Leia murmured through the glass.

"After that, I went to find Master Skywalker on Ahch-To. I must have been there maybe a day or two when..." _Breathe._ "When the bond kicked in."

"The bond?" Leia repeated.

"The Jedi texts mention a thing called a Force Bond," Rey said softly. "It's incredibly rare. The Force creates a connection between two minds, and the individuals on either side can access each other's minds and feel what they're feeling. The first time it happened, Ben was getting patched up by a med-droid, and I could _feel_ the probes on my face as if it was right there next to me."  
  
Her fingers rose unconsciously to her cheek. She shook her head as if it still shocked her. It honestly still did. "And then suddenly, I could see him. Clear as day, like I was in the same room as him, but I couldn't see the room. Just him."  
  
_Just you,_ he had said. His eyes had been so soft, so surprisingly soft as he studied her face. How could she not have seen that light in him even then?  
  
"It couldn't have lasted for more than a minute and then he disappeared. The Force kept connecting us at random during the rest of my time on Ahch-To. Only for a few minutes and always just the two of us, none of our surroundings. I was still so angry with him that I reamed him out every time we saw each other."  
  
She stopped then, lost in the memory of a cold, rain-soaked night, a fire illuminating his long face, and a whispered promise that she wasn't alone. She didn't want to tell them about that night. Not even Leia. Rey wanted to keep at least one thing safe and sacred within her soul.  
  
"But then the last time we connected on Ahch-To, we talked. _Actually_ talked. And through the bond...I saw Light in him. Real Light, small but strong. I knew then and there that I had to go to him and try to bring him back."

Leia didn't respond, but after a moment of silence, Azwe's voice returned, shaky and uncertain.  
  
"Bring him back? Back to the Light?"

Rey nodded slowly. "Yes."

"How?"

"I went to the Supremacy. I tried to talk to him. But the Supreme Leader...he ordered Ben to kill me. Ben killed Snoke instead." She looked up at the glass, her eyes swimming with emotion. "He saved my life, Leia. We fought Snoke's guards side by side. I saw that Light so clear and sure in him, I thought that he would turn."  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"He wasn't ready. And I couldn't join him. I didn't see him for a year after that."

"You went to seek my son on the Supremacy?" Leia asked incredulously, piecing together the half-truths and First Order propaganda surrounding the murder of Snoke. "You would do that for him?"  
  
"General...you’re not supposed to—”  
  
"Not now," Leia snapped at Azwe.

"Yes, I did." Rey looked down at her hands where they twisted in her lap.  
  
"I saw the good in him and I believed that I could convince him to come home. I...I thought that I was enough to bring him back. I wasn't."

"You can't blame yourself," Leia said soothingly. "Snoke got his claws in Ben's mind so long ago, not even his father could reach him. But he killed Snoke for you...the reports said you killed him. I thought you had been taken prisoner. But you..." Leia trailed off, lost in thought.  
  
"Sorry. Please continue, Rey.”

"Well...after Crait, I blocked him off. I didn't want to see him. So I blocked our connection. And after about a year of that, I was...erm...do you remember the recon mission I went on? I went dark for about a day and then came back with all kinds of intel for you from an anonymous source?"

"I think I know where this is going."

Rey snorted. "Trust me, I don't think you do."  
  
She gave an odd little smile. "Ben hired a mercenary to kidnap me and bring me to Canto Bight. He gave me a choice: accompany him to a gala of First Order supporters in exchange for the erasure of tracking information on the Resistance, or leave with mere weeks left for the cause to survive. I chose to stay."

"You're right," Leia said with an incredulous laugh. "That's not at all what I anticipated."  
  
Rey could practically hear her shaking her head in amusement.  
  
"Ben asked you to a ball...in exchange for classified intel? He is every inch my son sometimes."

Rey’s returning grin was wry but it reached her eyes for the first time in ages. "And he taught me to dance, too. Although in part, I suppose I have you to thank for that skill."  
  
Her face softened.  
  
"You all look so happy in Ben's memories."

"He...what did he show you?"

"Dancing, in the apartment on Chandrila," Rey said gently. "Han taking your braids down late at night. Little moments. Happy moments. He still remembers them, even after all of the pain. It was a gift to be able to see your family, Leia."

"Oh," Leia managed after a moment.  
  
"General?" Azwe whispered.  
  
"Just...go on. I need a moment.”

“I hate to derail you, Rey, but I don’t understand. What happened with the ball? With the memories?” 

 _Breathebreathebreathe._  
  
"There was...something I neglected to tell you about Canto Bight," Rey murmured, steadying herself. "I fell in love with him. There had always been this tension between us, things that neither of us could put to words. But that night...I was foolish. I let myself love him and told myself that it would last after we went our separate ways. It didn't. The parting...the parting was too much for Ben, and he sh-shut me out this time."  
  
A tear dripped unbidden onto her hands and she hastily smeared it away.  
  
"It was six months of silence until he crashed on Takodana. I was watching from my station in the woods and I saw P—Captain Dameron shoot him down."  
  
Her words came out in a mad tumble now.  
  
"I just... _moved_ , it was instinct. I couldn't let him die, not after six months without him and I was so _angry_ with him that I just couldn't..." She slowed with a breath. "I pulled him out of the wreck and took him somewhere safe. He was badly injured; broken leg, broken ribs, broken collarbone, concussion...I couldn't just leave him, even though it hurt more than anything to be near him."

She huffed out a sardonic puff of air, the accompanying smile more like a bitter grimace.

“And now we have come to my treachery, General Organa,” she said hoarsely. “These are my crimes, I confess them freely. On the night of the Resistance’s victory, I was saving the life of their worst enemy. It was a choice that _I_ made, without coercion or intimidation. I lied to my friends. I abandoned my post. I stole medical supplies. I kept him alive.”

_Breathe, cyar’ika._

“And worst of all, perhaps...I forgave him for what he did to me. I looked past the Darkness in him to find the Light that I _knew_ was there. I let him into my heart and my mind and my body and it was My. Choice.” She punctuated the last words with a sharp jab into her sternum, before her voice faltered and softened.

“It was _mine_ ,” she whispered. “And _he_ was mine. And until the day that I die, I will never regret a single moment that I got to have with him. Even if I have to carry every one of them alone.”

 She took a deep breath, sighing out on the exhale as if so many stones had been lifted off her back.

“Thank you both,” she said, a bit louder, a bit easier, “for listening, for helping me hold all of this. I’m grateful.”

Leia was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was strained.  
  
"I heard you say over and over to Poe that he loved you. Poe...I don’t know what to make of him. I know somewhere inside, he’s still a good man who just thinks he’s doing what’s right. But he’s sensitive. This is personal. With him, anything involving Ben is personal. And you...he cares about you, somehow. I think he let his personal hurt outweigh his sense, and he lost sight of justice and went towards revenge.  He thought he could protect you from Kylo Ren. But you swore devotion to him that was so raw..."  
  
Leia took a deep breath. "I wanted to believe it, to understand how such a thing was possible: you plucked Ben from the sky and you loved him so much you'd stake your life and reputation on his...I have watched you week after week here, never wavering, never giving up more than you could bear. It didn't make sense how that could happen from what he did to you on Starkiller, from knowing him just from the crash that you would want to protect him..."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"However the Force brought you together, I'm glad. I've been happy since I felt him on Takodana. I felt _him,_ my son, more than I have in years. And what you’ve been saying has only confirmed that Ben, the Ben I knew, is alive still. You saved his life, whatever we can salvage of it now. I owe you my thanks. Whatever else I can do to help you, I will."

Rey bit her lip, trying to contain her emotion, but it brimmed over her eyes and traitorous tears flowed once again.  
  
“Thank you, General. Truly. I’m glad I could give you some comfort in whatever way I could.”  
  
“And thank you, Rey, for permitting me to carry some of your burdens,” Leia whispered.

Rey took a deep breath, reining in the lump in her throat, and exhaled a frantic little laugh. She wiped at her eyes.  
  
“Forgive me, General, but I might have derailed your interrogation.”

“No, rest assured, you’ve done more than enough to help,” Leia chuckled in response.

Rey assessed the spot on the wall where the General's face would have been, trying to piece together her wayward thoughts.

“I guess...I’m just not sure how my relationship with your son is supposed to give your intelligence officers an edge against the First Order?” Her brow creased. “If that was the purpose of this meeting.”

"I had hoped my ulterior motive wasn't too transparent." Leia sighed.

"As you know, I am not assigned to your case. Or allowed to touch it directly. Poe forced me to recuse myself. It was humiliating. I stood in front of a council of my peers and shouted until I was red in the face that this was wrong, all of it was wrong, and they wouldn’t listen to a word I said. They told me I was unable to be impartial because this was a matter regarding my husband's killer.

 “Not because it was my _son_ , no; they wouldn't even acknowledge that. Kylo Ren killed Han, so I was not allowed to be involved in any questioning of you regarding his location or welfare. My only child. The last member of my family. I'm supposed to pretend he doesn't exist, while you rot away here."  
  
Leia sighed deeply. "Funny enough, that's where your connection has been helpful. Or can be. I won't take any of what you said to me today without your permission, but I have been fighting with Poe constantly and I’ve finally worn him down. I’m now permitted to lead my own investigation with you. With some supervision, of course. But I need your help, Rey. I can get you out, and maybe have a chance of rescuing Ben. I just need to know what you know about him now. Why he left, where he went. How light he was. Whatever you can give me. Please."  
  
There was a moment of silence.

Rey froze at some point of Leia’s impassioned declaration.    
  
“...get...get me...out? R- _rescue_ him?”  
  
It became increasingly harder to breathe. She had forgotten how heavy a thing hope could be.  
  
“You—Leia, if...if this is just a way to get me to open up more...”

"I swear it's not," Leia said sternly. "I wouldn't do this to you. Not after all the work it took to get you out of the hellhole they'd kept you in. But there is an unfortunate condition you need to be aware of."

“What is it?” Rey hissed.

"Of course, Poe isn't going to let me come talk to you without conditions. I can't possibly be involved with you or plan to get you out without some sort of oversight."

Leia shut her eyes. Weeks of appeals, of debates. Of bartering and declarations. It had come down to this. It was almost too horrible to speak, but it was, unfortunately, the best she could have hoped for. She sighed again, the life leaving her.  
  
"Everything I do for you—and for Ben—must ultimately conform to the following policy: bring home Ben Solo, or kill Kylo Ren.”

Rey’s heart seized in her chest and she felt the blood drain from her face as Leia continued.

“Whatever we do, whatever plans we make...they have to work, Rey. If we can't rescue him, bring him back here, prove that the Light still lives in him, there is nothing more we can do. He will forever be Kylo Ren, the enemy of the Resistance, and we are helpless to protect him. And if he can't prove his Light...I can't guarantee what will happen to you."

Rey suddenly burst out. “I don’t kriffing care what happens to me!”  
  
Her words dissipated into a low ringing, the only sound in the empty room. Her spine dug into the back of her chair and she tried to breathe into it, tried to ground herself again in the face of this hideous ultimatum.  
  
“I...I don’t matter. _Ben_ matters. How are you getting him out?”

There was a stony silence.  
  
"Rey, _I_ care what happens to you," Leia said. "You deserve freedom and happiness as much as Ben does."

“With all due respect, General,” Rey replied evenly, her voice quiet and hard, “I am a traitor to the Resistance. You _shouldn’t_ care what happens to me. I’m no one from nowhere. I am just an asset at your disposal.”  
  
Her eyes were steely as she stared down the black glass wall.  
  
“So use me. Tell me how to get Ben back.”

Leia's voice hardened suddenly. "If we're going to get Ben back, you're going to have to stop thinking you're expendable. I won't condone any mission that willfully treats you as a disposable asset. Ben's life is not more valuable than yours."

 “...just tell me what I have to do. Please. I will...I will do anything to get him back.”

 "That's the problem, Rey. That’s why we’re here. I don't _know_. We know that the Supreme Leader has returned to the helm of the First Order. We don't know how to extract him from there. I haven't spoken to him in years; I don't know how to even begin a rescue operation. I was hoping something you told me would help figure out how we can get Ben out."

Rey was silent as she wracked her brain, guilty tears bubbling behind her eyelids.  
  
She hated it, this vivisection of her love for Ben. Cutting it up into component parts for the use of other people. With every cut, more was lost. By the time this was over, there would be nothing sacred left to her. Every tender moment, every gentle touch, every kiss, it was all bloodstained and tattered now. And for all the damage she was doing, she could still find nothing that could help.  
  
“I-I don’t know what else I can tell you,” she cried, her breath coming in painful gasps. “There’s nothing _left_.”  
  
She buried her face in her hands, the sobs coming in earnest now.  
  
“R’iia I just want him back so much. I would die to get him back. But—but I don’t know how...”

"It's alright, sweetheart." Leia's disembodied voice was soft, motherly. "I want him back, too. I owe that to both of you for the pain I've caused. I won't push you anymore. Just...think about it, okay? Anything you can think of that might get through to Ben. I'll check back with you in a few days. I'm sure we'll figure something out."

Rey nodded tiredly, sniffing and dragging her rough fingertips under her eyes. She just wanted to curl up and sleep forever.  
  
“Yes, General,” she mumbled.

"I'm sure you've heard my lecture on hope before, and I bet you're just as tired of hearing it as I am of saying it, but hold on, Rey," Leia begged. "It's my fault that you're in this mess, but I promise you I'm doing everything in my power to set this right.”

“It’s not your fault, General.”  
  
Rey sounded so small, even to herself. She caught a glance of herself in the black glass wall. Drained, emptied of everything of value, left with nothing but scraps. A starving scavenger again.  
  
“I should have known better than to reach for salvage that wasn’t mine.”

"Rey, you can't believe that," Leia said. "I felt Ben when I was on Takodana. I felt my son again. I found that doll among his things. I know he loved you, Rey. Loves you still. We just need to find him again. He's out there. We just need to remind him. Of himself, and you."  
  
There was a moment of silence.

"I can't undo the hurt I've done to my son, but you have so much love to give him..."  
  
Leia trailed off.  
  
"I can't force all this on you, Rey. Thank you for the information. We'll see what we can do for him."

The girl nodded mechanically, her eyes dull.  
  
“If there is nothing else, General,” she said, her voice hollow, “I would like to return to my room. I’m very tired.”

"Azwe, can you get the droids?" Leia asked, and faintly, the interrogator muttered something before her voice vanished.  
  
"I'm sorry, Rey. I will get you out of here, somehow. You and Ben...you'll be together. I promise."

Emfor and Aytar entered and, helping her to her feet, linked Rey’s wrists to theirs. She stood and cast a glance over her shoulder as they turned her toward the door.  
  
“Thank you for that, General. But even the most well-meaning promises still break. I’ve had my fill of them for my lifetime.”  
  
The droids shuffled her out into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind her.

Behind the glass, the General slumped in her seat and buried her face in her hand.  
  
_Ben..._ she sighed into the Force, feeling in vain for the light, the familiar glow of her son, somewhere out in the galaxy.

_Come back.  
_

_I know it's too late for me to fix things._

_For her._

_Come back for her._

 

The journey back through the base was silent, interrupted only by the clanging and whirring of the droids. Emfor and Aytar both felt a duty in their programming to comfort and reassure their prisoner, but for a while neither of them vocalized anything. They sensed that the woman between them was too exhausted to respond. She was bone-weary and heartsore; she dragged her feet and stumbled along, barely looking up from the floor as they took her around the various corners and corridors.  
  
Finally, once the room was nearly upon them, Emfor piped up with a reassuring, "See, Mistress? Just a bit further."  
  
But as the group rounded the corner and faced the door to Rey's cell, the droids froze.  
  
"Oh," Aytar said.

Written on the metal door were sloppy, dark red Aurebesh characters, still wet and dripping. 

_SUPREME LEADER’S WHORE_

The droids felt Rey sag beneath their grip.

Her eyes were fixed on the words, as red as if the vandal had carved the remains of her broken heart out of Rey’s chest for the ink.

 _SUPREME LEADER’S WHORE_  
  
The part of her mind that always sounded like Ben screamed at the injustice of the lie. Howled that he had loved her, railed at the hated title, screamed with fire in every syllable that none of it was true. She only faintly heard it, the righteous fury so far from her now. She was numb, she was tired.  
  
And the voice of reason was being drowned out by another. One that whispered that every word was true.

"My word. Mistress, that text was not sanctioned by the Resistance—" Emfor began weakly.

“I’d just like to go to sleep now, please.”

"We are sorry, Mistress," Aytar said, depressing a panel and unlocking the door. "We do not know how this got there but we do not believe it is true. We will report this vandalism and cooperate with the efforts to investigate it."

Rey did not respond. The door swung open, and the droids ushered her forward. In the doorway, they disconnected. The droids stood awkwardly. Their programming hadn’t prepared them for this.  
  
"Sleep well," Emfor said, an empty pleasantry.

She didn’t answer, just walked to her bed and curled up on top of the blanket. The door closed, leaving her alone in the dark with three words bleeding behind her eyelids.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey just straight up admitted to her bf's mom that they fucked and honestly, I love that for her


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You will not wage war on the Darkness alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This is the first time we have ever recalled a chapter, and I assure it wasn't anything serious, but after doing a reread of Sighs of Fire, I was compelled to do better, because I wanted this, to the best of my ability, to somehow surpass my most popular fic in quality AND tears.
> 
> Look at the hubris of me! Look at it and LAUGH.
> 
> So here's SSC 10, with several extra pages of content!

"What is he whose grief  
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow  
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand  
Like wonder-wounded hearers?"

            _Hamlet_ , V.I

* * *

The scraping of his boots on the floor of the cavern was a cacophony, echoing off the tall, stalactite-covered ceilings. Even this was nowhere near loud enough to drown out the humming of the Force in his mind. In his head, it was as if there was a choir of voices just up ahead, each singing a different out-of-key aria. He couldn’t see how far back the cavern went, nor how high the ceiling loomed, but he could feel space around him, buzzing with life.

Just as he remembered.

He didn’t want to be back here, to have his long-neglected memories return in sharp focus as he retraced his steps from over a decade before, but he was running out of choices. The irony was not lost on him that, after all the time he spent with Rey, of disarming each other through shared vulnerabilities, the only way he could envision finding a way back to her would be by arming himself, crafting a new blade. She would probably have mocked him for that.

A lightsaber. It wasn’t a true solution. He wasn’t going to magically battle his way through his enemies, mowing down ‘troopers and Knights to carve a path back to her. But it was more than nothing.

A lightsaber would buy him time. It would build up his authority again.

It had to work.

 

He couldn’t pinpoint when, exactly, he had first seen the singing green blade of his uncle’s lightsaber, but he remembered how it felt to look upon it.

He was still a child, he guessed, not quite to his pre-teens, when that emerald beam of light first burned through a haze in his mind. All his insecurities and uncertainties about what Uncle Luke did and what the Force or the Jedi were melted in that instant.

All he saw was that green light, and something inside him clicked.

He was drawn to it, a moth flying in the moonlight. He was repulsed from it, a roach scurrying from a lamp.

This, Luke explained, was his destiny.

This, he realized, was what his nightmares had been trying to show him.

He hadn’t wanted to train with Luke. Luke hadn’t wanted to train him. Not really, but Leia insisted, so their reluctant co-education began, the lightsaber the only beacon he could find in the drudgery of his training. The memory of the lightsaber, of that feeling of awe, of understanding, quickly faded like a deactivated blade under Luke’s tutelage in Force theory and Jedi history.

And then, after months of endless meditation sessions, of sparring against crude enemies made of scrap, after lifting stones that grew gradually larger, after building a control his parents had thought impossible for their impulsive, passionate son, his uncle, his Master, had brought him here to build his own saber.

The cave had been so strange when he had arrived as a boy. His uncle had guided him, his first student, through the seemingly endless forest towards the cacophony in the Force, the indecipherable buzzing in his head growing louder as they crossed the shadows of the trees.

But at the mouth of the cave, Luke had stood still.

“This is your quest,” he’d said. “From here on, you’re on your own, kid.”

Uncle Luke had always had a flair for the dramatic.

In the next moment, he had turned his back, taking the lantern with him and plunging the cavern into darkness. Ben had stumbled into the cave with none of the elegance with which he now strode in, well over a decade later.

This time, he had taken a command shuttle, a pilot, and several guards, as had been prescribed by his officers and council members when he had informed them of the impending trip. His officers had made a very convincing show of being reluctant to let the Supreme Leader out of their sight, but he made a firm assurance that he had no intention of flying himself, and would return in one piece.

Of course, he sent his entourage away as soon as they made planetfall. It was a long hike to the cave, and he would need to go alone if he had any hope for success. First Order eyes were unwelcome on him as he searched the cave aimlessly, an exposed nerve in the Force. He had no doubt that every last one of his retinue was loyal to Hux and his generals, not to him. The nervous young officers would not hesitate to report back to the snakes at his council table, telling them all about the bizarre rituals of their strange new leader.

He knew from the start that this endeavor would be a struggle. He couldn’t let them see this. He could not be seen as vulnerable, and for that matter, he did not want any company for this part of the journey. His mask was slipping. It required readjustment.

He relied on his memories to bring him back through the ominous forest to the cavern, following the familiar tug of the Force. For once, he was grateful for the silence in his head to help him find his way again, and he trampled over thick undergrowth with determined strides.

He had not been so confident the last time. His head rang with the Force then, too, and he had almost been dizzy with its determined call. So much sensation had been overwhelming at the time. He had long grown past such weakness.

Kybers, Luke had told him, weren’t just objects. They were imbued with the Force itself, and like the Force, they were alive. They contained spirit and energy. They were not simply plucked from the rock like other stones; they would only go with a soul they deemed fit.

“They have...personality,” Luke had said with a wry smile. “So you’ve gotta find one you can live with.”

He had felt his way blindly through the cave, his hands scraped against the walls, the sharp stone digging into his skin. His rasping, panicked breaths quickly became silenced by a strange chorus of noises. In the darkness, he had thought he saw faint flecks of light from the cavern walls, flickering to life like newborn stars around him. The dim glow became brighter and brighter, and he could soon see each individual crystal, a sea of luminous stones. They had called to him. They had been curious about their newcomer. They had each whispered different things, some in words, little whispers, some in images, brief impressions of promises. Some had grown quiet when he drew close. He had reached out and tried to touch some. They became dark before he made contact.

The deeper he got into the cave, the quieter it became. The glow dimmed. The curiosity had vanished and was replaced by a strange unease. Fewer sought to reach out to him.

Time was meaningless here. He had felt himself losing sight of how deep into the cavern he had trudged, following the last of the lights that dimmed as he drew near, the voices that silenced themselves as he passed. The flurry of sensation vanished to a dreadful emptiness just as quickly as it had risen.

His heart had raced and his breath had grown shallower until the loudest sound was his panting echoing through the darkness.

Maybe he wasn’t a Jedi. He had been wrong all along. Luke and his mother had both been mistaken. He could use the Force, sure, but there was no kyber here for him. The Force was not connecting him to any of the crystals in the cavern.

There was something wrong with him. He had always known it. And this was proof.

He had felt a sudden calm overtake him, and he paused.

You don’t have to fear, he thought. He felt as if there was someone else in his mind. Something else. But though he felt a sudden chill overtake him, he was not afraid.

_Come to me, boy. Your heart is strong._

He saw a pinprick of bright light, a lonely star calling to him from across the cavern. On unsteady feet, he had strode toward it. The ground was level. The path was sure.

As he drew closer, he had felt a myriad of sensations, a warmth growing within him. A chorus of visions, of comforting whispers.

_I know the power you possess. I know the fear you face._

_It cannot control you, child._

_I know you want to be free of it._

_Your heart is good._

_Together. We can face it together._

_You will not wage war on the Darkness alone._

The Force presence was...soothing. Conciliatory. It seemed to sense all the things he had seen, the dreams that had haunted him even in his waking hours, and it welcomed him, regardless.

As he drew closer, he saw the visions it promised.

He was a light, a star glowing brightly in the sky, looking across space, awash in an unnerving peace; he’d never known calm like this.

 _The Force_ , the crystal explained. _It feels like this._

He was in his body again, standing on a cliff face, shadows growing smaller, as a light, a sun, rose to its apex above him.

As the sun set again, he saw the shadows creep up around him, trying to paw at him, grab at his limbs, but the light returned, this time from the crystal before him.

Heroism. Virtue. Courage.

He heard a deep, rasping breath. Mechanical, terrifying.

He turned.

It came from a larger-than-life death mask, staring grimly right at him.

_Do not look away, child._

He stared at it. He saw his reflection.

 _No more Darkness,_ it promised. _Only strength._

He stood before the glowing crystal. Cautiously, he reached out a hand and touched it. It was warm as if it were alive. It glowed, bright and powerful.

_Take heart, Jedi Ben Solo._

With a gentle tug, it fell off into his hand. It glowed for a moment.

_This is a journey we shall undertake together._

He had walked out of the cave with no more light to see by, no more voices or murmurs of the Force. He felt his way out into the watery pre-dawn light and found Luke meditating by the cavern entrance.

That was one of the few times he remembered his uncle seeming not disappointed in him. Unabashedly proud. It was one of the rare moments after Ben started at the academy that his uncle seemed less like a Jedi Master and more like his uncle again, the adventurous Uncle Luke he’d loved from childhood.

“Good job, kid,” he’d said, clapping Ben on the back with his synth-flesh hand. “Nice to have another Jedi in the family.”

 

 

The cavern had gone suddenly quiet now, eerily so. Ben could feel the pulse of the Force, but it was subdued, not an excited rumble as he recalled. He strolled forward, but the crystals did not look upon him. They did not sing with his passing.

The cave was dark and silent. Ordinary.

He felt like there were eyes on him, still. No memories or images came. Instead of whispering to him, it was as if the crystals were whispering _about_ him.

_Wayward child._

_Fallen knight._

_Breaker of oaths._

_Supreme Leader._

_The Jedi Killer._

He wasn’t surprised the cavern was dark for him. He knew what he was.

That didn’t make him any less frustrated. He didn’t know of any other kyber reserves that hadn’t been stripped by the Empire or the First Order, and he couldn’t bear to return to the Absolution without a blade.

If he were to fail this, the consequences would be dire. It could very well be the end of him, of everything he worked for. Of the tally marks on the wall for Rey. He would never be able to return to her if he didn’t do this.

His credibility was already challenged at every turn. To fail another task would be suicide. He had to slide his mask back on. Play his part as the ruthless Supreme Leader. Wield his weapon again.

 _Would Rey even want you if you succeed?_ Doubt hissed in the back of his mind. _Would she want you if she could see how monstrous you really are?_

He tried to block out the wrathful voice. Occasionally, he succeeded.

With every step his feet grew heavier, as if he bore the weight of the expectations placed on him by virtue of his office, of the burden of the infinite number of possible fates he had inflicted on Rey by running, of the dire necessity of this task.

He couldn’t fail, and yet he felt the cavern’s inhabitants were united against him. He couldn’t spy a single flash of light, nor did he feel the excited hum of crystals trying to get a glimpse of him.

His gloved hands slid against the rough cavern wall in the unyielding darkness.

The crystals, too, must have known what he planned to ask of them.

 

He had only heard of the Sith’s weapons from Luke. They weren’t even mentioned in the ancient texts his uncle had allowed him to read. But he’d heard about the gleaming red blade that Darth Vader had used in combat.

“So...what happens if my lightsaber is red?” Ben had asked, looking up from the pieces of his hilt. Though Luke had helped him pick the mechanical components—finding a grip big enough for his already too-large hands had been a particular challenge—whenever he tried to fit everything together, it wasn’t sitting right. He’d been prodding at it for hours with his toolkit while Luke sat nearby, fiddling with some old Holocrons and clearly not offering his student any help with his new blade.

“It won’t be.”

“Okay, but what if it is?” He tried to bury his fear in idle curiosity. He hoped Luke didn't sense that he feared the crystal would tattle on him, would announce his Darkness for all the galaxy to see. He was working so hard to get rid of the shadows in his heart, but he still had nightmares.

Luke, however, didn't miss a beat.

“If it is, I’d have to ask you which Jedi you killed to steal his lightsaber.”

“What?”

Luke put down the Holocron and sighed, as he often did when beginning a lecture. Ben had come to believe this was simply how Luke started paragraphs, rather than an actual expression of exasperation. Then again, he couldn’t deny that his uncle always seemed exasperated.

“Red kybers aren’t natural occurrences. When you…” Luke looked at the table. “...fix that, you’ll have to commune with the Force to get the kyber to respond. That communion will turn your crystal its color and, thus, color your blade. Usually, that means green or blue, somewhere along that end of the color spectrum, maybe purple. Red sabers come about one way and one way only.”

Ben folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, lifting the front two legs off the ground. “You piss off the Force.”

“No. And watch your mouth.” Luke picked up a book and swatted at him to put all four legs of the chair on the ground.

“In order to get a red blade, a Sith would command the Dark Side of the Force into the kyber, causing it to change. It involves taking control of the kyber, of its will, and forcing your own onto it. The red color is not natural. To get it, you have to bleed the kyber.”

“You...bleed on the crystal?”

This sigh was genuine.

“You bleed the essence from the kyber. You transform it. You make it dark. And for many Sith, that meant killing a Jedi, stealing their lightsaber, and bleeding their crystals.”

“Couldn’t they just find one of their own?”

It was a silent eruption. Luke stared at Ben coldly for a moment and picked up the kyber crystal sitting on the table with venom.

“I’ve been lecturing you for months, _months_ , to prepare for this day, and you barely paid any attention,” he snapped. “You don’t know what this is, do you? What did you experience in the cavern? How did you find it? Hm? Did you just grab the first rock you could find?”

Ben sat very still, inexplicably rankled by Luke’s carefree handling of his kyber. “It...it picked me.”

“It picked you,” Luke repeated. “It picked _you_. Tell me, Ben. If it was a regular rock, would it be doing any picking?”

Ben hated this kind of reprimanding; the false questions were so irritating.

“No.”

“No. Because most rocks are not as alive as a kyber crystal. If you’re bleeding the kyber, you’re imparting your will on it. You are intentionally causing it pain.” He brandished the stone at his nephew. “This kyber knows you, Ben. It found you. It wants to work with you. It will become more than your weapon. It’s basically your partner.”

Satisfied that his point had been made, Luke sat it down on the table. The stone had seemed to look up at Ben somehow.

“It is easier to bleed the kyber that doesn’t know your heart. It’s just a rock to a Sith. They don’t have a relationship with their weapon. Sith are cowards without the will to face the Darkness and bleed their own, so they kill—killed Jedi to take theirs.”

He glanced at his nephew. An uncomfortable moment passed. “Thankfully, that won’t be something you ever have to worry about. There are no more Sith. So, Force willing, you’ll never encounter a red blade.”

Sitting back, Luke looked at the pile of wires and tools Ben had assembled. An absolute mess.

“That’s enough for tonight. I’ll try to look at it tomorrow, see if we can’t figure out why it won’t work. Keep your crystal with you. Tuck it under your pillow or it keep it by your bedside. You two could use some bonding time.”

Ben sighed.

His own lightsaber. He never imagined it would be this hard.

He never imagined he’d be back.

The Force moved differently in the cave.

He thought he could navigate by reaching out with his feelings, but rather than showing him the layout of the cavern, Ben felt as if he were trying to pull a live fish from a rushing river. He would feel for direction, arrive at a destination, and realize that this was not actually where he had been meaning to go.

The cave was intentionally leading him astray.

He felt as if he was being watched by an amused audience. He was a holochess pawn under the watchful eyes of players far beyond his level of skill in the game.

But more than that: he felt as if he was being recognized. They were not just watching a random player enter their arena. The crystals _knew_ him. They remembered. They must have wondered why he was back.

Maybe they knew what he’d done before. Sensed his intention now.

The cavern wound deeper. The only sound was the dripping of water, somewhere unseen. He used his senses to guide him in the darkness.

He was growing frustrated; though his temper flared and goaded him into lashing out, he strained against his anger, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists rather than punching the rock walls around him and interrupting the frightful silence by raging at the injustice of it all.

He just needed a kyber crystal.

He just needed Rey back.

Why wasn’t that enough?

Why wasn’t he ever enough?

Snoke had dissected the weapon before him, the first time he’d knelt at his new master’s feet, the night Kylo Ren was born from the ashes of the Jedi temple.

His new master had pulled apart the saber, holding the components in mid-air. Kylo kept his head down. Snoke had laughed at the horrendous craftsmanship.

“Though crude, your blade has served you well, my young apprentice,” he had said with a cackle. “But this is a weapon of a Jedi, is it not?”

“Yes.” Kylo had hesitated, then caught himself. “Yes, Master.”

“Then we must amend this.” He had plucked the kindly crystal from the air with his claw-like nails.

“You know the heart of your weapon, boy. You know the power it contains. You must bend it to your will.

Kylo lifted his head carefully. Something oily had twisted in the pit of his stomach to see his kyber in the hands of another. He had pushed the feeling down deeper. He did not want to displease his mentor. Not after all that Lord Snoke had done for him.

“Master?”

“You must have a weapon suited for you, Kylo Ren.” Snoke sneered at the last two words. A reminder that he was now Snoke’s possession. “You must have a weapon reflective of the Darkness you command.”

Snoke pushed the ragged pieces of the hilt back together.

“Do with it what you must.”

He thought of his uncle, malice in his eyes, his own green blade drawn. Determination had filled his heart. There was no need for doubt or regret.

“I will, my Lord.”

 

The cavern couldn’t possibly run this deep, but he felt himself pawing at the wall, the crystals silent and dim in the endless expanse of shadow. He was growing weary and hungry, but there was no relief in sight.

He remembered the thrumming in the Force that had dimmed when the crystals sensed his heart, felt the shadows reaching to overtake it.

Now they knew. The shadows had consumed him too completely for the kybers’ tastes, and they would not welcome him. He had no idea how long he had been wandering, whether it had been hours or minutes, and he was too deep into the cavern to determine how close he was to sunrise. He wondered if he was to be punished by the Force to roam here until he died. That would be too easy, too merciful, he thought.

Perhaps this was the real reason Sith had to steal sabers to bleed them: no stone will answer your call when you have shunned the Light.

He paused, feeling the wall beneath his hands and the ground with both of his booted feet. Both were solid beneath him. Carefully, he slid to the ground to rest. He buried his face in his hands in frustration.  
  
_Would she even want you now?_

He was too Dark for a kyber. He was too Light for the First Order. He couldn’t win.

Rey believed there was still light in him, at least, and she was a better judge than he was. He’d been so conditioned to smother the Light in himself, mask it in Darkness, lest Snoke accuse him of being too weak.

His Light, left alone, was a weakness, but when tempered, it would help strengthen his Darkness, but should never scatter the shadows within him. That was what Snoke had taught.

But the light in her called to him. He knew that his light had answered back.

When he had first returned to the First Order, he sought comfort in the Darkness. He sought strength. The hardened, cold facade of the Dark Side hadn’t worked. His Light sought her still.

And as he thought on this, on the warmth and light he had felt when Rey’s mind curled around his, he heard something. A sound that he had not expected to hear in this place.

A laugh.

Her laugh.

He hadn’t heard it through the Force bond; no, the first time he had heard and seen Rey laugh was on Canto Bight, paired with a smile that could ignite a dying sun. She had laughed with him, at him, and he felt as if there was no greater power in the galaxy than the one that made her glow and giggle in his presence.

That sweet, sunny music of Rey’s laughter pealed off the crystalline walls like chimes. It was so clear and bright that he could almost swear he saw it, flickering just out of the corner of his eye.

It took all of his self-restraint not to call her name out into the darkness.

 _She isn’t here,_ he reminded himself, hesitating.

_But the Force is trying to commune with you. Show you something. It’s luring you with her._

Another outburst of giggles, as if she had just tried speaking to him in Shyriiwook. He rose and followed the shining sound deeper into the endless cavern.

In a distant nook of the cave, there was a faint glow. The laughing stopped and Ben felt its absence keenly. The light flashed brighter as he took slow, heavy steps towards it.

He felt it watching him, pleased.

_I remember you._

He edged closer, scrutinizing the crystal with a jeweler’s eye.

_You did not hear me singing then. It seems that you do now, though._

The crystal that had spoken was the size of his thumb and colorless, slight occlusions clouding its core. He found himself drawn inexorably to its fixed position in the cave wall.

It seemed to chuckle at him. It seemed to challenge him.

_You are much changed since last you were here, shadow boy. Why do you come?_

His hand, hovering over the crystal, froze.

He didn’t recall the last crystal interrogating him.

 _I have lost my old lightsaber. I am here to build a new one,_ he thought tentatively outward.

 _How careless of you!_ the little stone trilled in reply. _Surely you will not be so careless should you succeed with your next blade._

He stared at it. He drew his hand away.

_Succeed?_

The crystal seemed to chuckle. _It is always a gamble, is it not? When forging a new lightsaber? And you...ah, you, little shadow, are distracted. Hm, yes, it will be difficult to focus with such a cluttered mind as yours._

He sighed out the small panic that had flooded him. He had been petrified that he would be rejected by this crystal, too, and be forced to wander the cavern in the darkness for days until he could locate another stone that would respond to him.

He was losing his mind. These were rocks.

But he felt them in the same way he felt into Rey’s mind. He hadn’t realized how much he craved that deep connection until he regained some semblance of it

_It’s worth it. I have to try._

The crystal hummed contentedly. If it was possible, he could almost imagine that it smiled.

_You are odd, shadow boy...quite odd. But the light in your heart intrigues me._

It seemed to ponder its options, or perhaps it was trying to tease him further.

_What an adventure we shall have together, hm?_

Carefully, he placed his gloved hand on the crystal.

 _Don’t you normally show me?_ He felt slightly bewildered. _I thought the crystals were supposed to show me the future._

He waited. Silence.

_Or something._

It scoffed. _You are standing in a dark cave having a conversation with a rock, and you want a full production?_

Silence again. Judgmental, exasperated, indulgent silence.

_You are much changed from your last quest in this place. Things will not be the same for you._

He tugged the crystal from the rock. He almost thought he felt laughter, amusement.

_Your soul sings, little one. Who do you sing to, tell me tell me. Where is the light that casts your shadow?_

As he stared at it in his glove, he was surprised by how little he felt. It was normal. Too ordinary.

Perhaps he had gone mad.

But still, it glowed a little.

_Come, shadow boy. Let us find your light again._

He swallowed, trying to keep his mind blank.

He could not let the crystal know the truth.

He felt the eyes of the cavern upon himself and his new companion

He could not begin the process here, could not bleed the kyber here in this cave. Too many ancient, invisible eyes on him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He slipped the crystal inside.

He would have to go somewhere else. Somewhere he could hide his light and shadows from prying gazes.

Feeling into the darkness, he began to pick his way out of the whispering cavern.

 

A practice droid was blasted into the far wall of the sparring chamber with a snarl. The Force buzzed with dissention.

“Where in karking hells IS HE?!” roared the Heavy, looking for another practice dummy to abuse.

The Rogue prowled the edges of the group, her fingers twitching. “Why summon us to spar if he wasn’t going to be here in the first place?” she grumbled.

“This is unacceptable,” hissed the Sniper.

The Armory exhaled an exasperated huff of static through his vocoder.

“I don’t know why you all are getting so worked up about this,” he drawled, settling himself against the nearest wall to pull apart his various weapons for cleaning. “It’s not like this is exactly a new trend with His Highness.”

“He knows better,” seethed the Rogue. “We are not toys for his amusement.” She flung her knife into the throat of a dummy across the room, the thunk of blade meeting foam-coated plastisteel punctuating her words.

“He is changed. I could sense it the moment he came aboard,” growled the Heavy.

The Monk, ever silent, nodded in agreement, folding their long arms over an armored chest. A low hum of assent rolled through the Force.

“There is too much Light in him.” The observation was delivered flatly, the Armory’s attention firmly fixed on an invisible spot of grime on his baldrick. “Always has been, try as he might to snuff it out.”

“Too soft, too human,” grumbled the Rogue, pulling her knife free from its mark and rolling it lazily over her knuckles. “Never truly one of us.”

“Pathetic boy.”

“Weakling.”

“Usurper.”

“Ah, but what an opportunity we have been presented with.”

The Knights of Ren turned to face the interloper, weapons at the ready. Hux sauntered into their space with hands raised in casual surrender. His eyes flicked to each masked countenance in rapid succession.

He had never given much thought to the Knights of Ren, never even gone so far as to learn their names, if they had them. To him, the Supreme Leader’s band of misfit Force-users were nothing more than loose cannons and wild animals barely restrained. Unpredictable, unstable, uncontrollable. Hux had no use for beasts that would not bend to his will. He needed an army, a unified fighting force. Not these renegade sorcerers.

But things had changed. And his needs had adapted.

“What is it you want, _General_?” The title was spat with contempt through the false mouth of the Heavy’s mask.

“We thought you had no use for our sorcery,” hissed the Sniper. “Though we’d be happy to give you a demonstration in Master Ren’s absence.”

Hux chuckled darkly, his hands falling to their customary place behind his back.

“Yes, your Master. The one I just overheard you maligning and cursing. The Supreme Leader.” He arched a pale eyebrow and tutted condescendingly. “You all are walking dangerously close to treason.”

The Rogue’s blade was inches from his throat in a heartbeat.

“You would do well to hold your tongue in the presence of your betters, boy,” she growled.

“And I had so hoped that we might be equals,” the General pouted, outwardly unperturbed by the knife hovering a hairsbreadth from his jugular. “Given that we appear to agree for once.”

He pushed the blade away with two gloved fingers, a bored gesture.

“Something needs to be done about Kylo Ren.”

The assembled Knights looked around at each other, a silent communion passing amongst them.

“Explain.” The Heavy’s command was cautious but effective.

Hux smirked and took up a leisurely circuit of the old practice room.

“As you say, the Supreme Leader is much changed from his ordeals in the wilderness. He is sloppy, weak, soft.” The General stopped his pacing to stand before the viewport, faraway stars painting his pale face with a ghostly pallor. “I cannot abide that in my new order.”

“Your new order?” scoffed the Sniper. “Careful, Hux, now it is you who steps close to treason.”

“It is mine!” Hux spat over his shoulder. “Ren is nothing but a figurehead, a whipped dog on a leash, _I_ hold the chain that leads him.”

He took a steadying breath, smoothing a wayward lock of ginger hair back into place.

“The display that he made on the Harbinger put too much slack on his line. There are too many whispers in the barracks. Too many malcontents coming out of the shadows, whispering the name of ‘Kylo Ren’ like he’s some kind of folk hero. No...no, that I cannot abide. He has outlived his usefulness.” He turned to face the ghoulish masks that surrounded him. “It is time that I take my rightful place on the throne.”

“And why should we help put you on it?” The Armory leaned back against the wall, pensive, calculating. “You have no love for Force-users. Least of all the Knights of Ren.”

“You’ve always said that there is no longer a place for our ways in war,” sneered the Rogue, stalking around the general like a predatory reptile.

“That we should have had the decency to die out with the rest of the Sith and Jedi of old,” growled the Sniper, posture hostile and her grip on her gun tense.

“But your tune has changed drastically, General,” continued the Armory. “So what is in it for us?”

Hux chuffed a smirking laugh.

“Elevation, my friends,” he said, spreading his hands in a gesture caught between placation and condescension. “Power. Legacy. Too long have you languished in the shadows of unworthy masters. Snoke’s personal assassination squad. Ren’s discarded playmates. Such a waste.” Hux began his circuit of the room again, the unseen stares of his audience followed him with every step. “I would have you as my elite personal guard.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “The Praetorians were useless. They did nothing to protect Supreme Leader Snoke and failed to avenge him. I will not make that mistake.”

He stopped before them and looked at each masked face in turn. Without a word, he whirled around and whipped a slim personal blaster out from under his coat, taking lazy aim at the practice dummy on the far wall. He fired three shots: liver, heart, head. Each found its mark with deadly accuracy. He silently slipped the blaster back into its holster and turned back to the group surrounding him, a smug smirk twisting his thin lips.

“This is my offer. This is why I called you here. Help me depose Kylo Ren and I will make legends of you all.”

His promise hung in the stale, recirculated air like a cloud, mixing with the scent of seared plastisteel and dissipating plasma. The Knights were preternaturally still, and even Hux could sense some kind of unspoken communication passing among them. He would have to get used to that.

Quiet as a shadow, the Monk lifted from their relaxed pose against the wall and came to stand before the General. Hux had to suppress a shudder at the eerily silent being, with a mask like the twisted face of death itself. The Monk stared at him for a long moment. He could tell that he was being measured. Then the being’s hands lifted and created a short series of signs between them.

“What does it mean?” Hux asked, quietly unnerved.

The Rogue came to stand beside her comrade. “They said, ‘What would you have us do, my lord?’”

The General’s face split into a sneering smile.

“I have a few ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit got so sad we switched to Hamlet quotes.
> 
> Thank god for sassy rocks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No," the stone moaned, hollow and weak.
> 
> "Oh, my sweet star boy, what have you done…"

Once he gave his apprentice the task, Snoke picked the chamber out for him to execute it: a small room, little more than a glorified cupboard. But it was dark, comfortably so, the lights in the wall panel opposite the door the only illumination on the room.

Snoke hadn’t escorted him but entrusted his red-armored guards to lead Kylo to the room.

Even without his master present, Kylo had understood the message: he was being watched. Snoke was monitoring his new apprentice. The destruction of the temple had been nothing more than an audition. This was his first real test.

He exhaled, letting the apprehension leave his body. He was prepared for this. Years of loneliness, years of torment. Years of darkness. He wasn’t just ready; he _wanted_ this.

He took a seat on the ground, crossing his legs under him, and placed the kyber crystal on the floor in front of him.

He could feel its dread.

It knew what it had done at the temple, what he had used it to do. It had felt Snoke’s long, grimy nails plucking it from Ben’s saber. It felt the Darkness in him, a swirling, writhing thing.

_This is not you, Jedi Ben Solo._

_You can fight this._

_You are not gone yet._

_Turn back, sweet boy._

     _There is still light in you._

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. He knew what had to be done.

His crystal hadn’t helped him before. He had been powerful, sure, but in the ways that mattered, he was weak. Too chained to the Light. He needed to harden himself, to steel the soft parts of his broken heart into something useful.

Slowly, carefully, he commanded the Force to lift his crystal into the air, executing the maneuver with scholarly precision. The Force seemed to fight against him, seemed to try to deny him his will, but he was too strong to be withstood.

He thought he heard the crystal begging him, trying to coax out the last Light in him.

There was none left.

His fingers flexed and curled as he brought his crystal to eye level, his hands framing his face. He stared deeply at it. It glowed dimly, defiant.

 _Impart on it your Darkness_ , another voice seemed to call out into his mind. _Bend it to your will, my young apprentice._

Idly, Kylo twirled the stone with one finger.

_Where do I begin?_

He felt into the crystal, into its heart in the Force.

It would be too easy to impart on it the pain in his own soul. The pain, after all, was suffocating; it hovered right beneath his skin at all times, just waiting to hemorrhage out of him. Too many nights alone in his parent’s apartment. Too many jeers by his classmates. Too many nightmares. A thousand different wounds had made Ben Solo not so much a man, but an assemblage of scars. A thousand different wounds had made Kylo Ren.

The crystal seemed to wobble in midair. It seemed to feel his pain.

     _Young Ben, turn back you don’t have to do this_

_Oh. But I do._

As it always had, it seemed to come naturally to him.

Since his earliest memories, in moments of great loneliness, the Darkness had come to him. It was not a balm. He had never been soothed. He had only been made stronger, iron bathed in fire, forged by the heat. He had only been made _more_ from every pain, every ache.

He thought back to the temple. He remembered flame. He thought of how it burned, how the heat had licked at his face and the shrieking wind had whipped through his hair.

It felt good.

It felt good to feel the hatred, to not try to suppress it, to not feel weak for a change, but to let all the agonies he had experienced out. He had let his peers feel it, and now the crystal would feel it too.

He thought of the green glow of his uncle’s saber, once full of such promise, such certainty, drawing him from his sleep.

He had felt fear for a moment, at the malice in his uncle’s eyes, at the blade hovering above him.

_Of course_

_He’d always feared you for your power. Hated you for being what he could never be_

_Hated the strength he saw in you, the potential you possessed to surpass him and his flimsy Jedi order_

_He didn’t care about family_

_You were a threat to him, nothing more_

_Nothing more_

The voice hissing in his mind was menacing, yet comforting, in a moment he thought no comfort could be found. It was the only voice that had ever truly praised him, that had ever believed in him.

Emboldened by the voice, by the memory, he cast his attention back onto the crystal.

The stone seemed to weep in the cold air in front of him, its light flickering between his palms like a dying insect.

_Please_

_Please, Ben, sweet one, little star, not this_

_Don’t do this_

_Don’t, please_

Kylo had to hold back a bitter laugh.

_It’s already done._

_Everything I am was by design, by someone else’s creation._

Another memory flooded his mind from the previous year, a time when he still clung to the light like a falling man on the end of a rope.

_The students were all crowded around the large holo projector in the center of the room. He couldn’t hear the holonet news broadcast shocked whispers of his peers. A younger student, in the process of talking to her friends, saw Ben enter while she was mid-sentence. Her jaw snapped shut and her eyes grew wide, and her companions turned to see the source of their friend’s shock._

_Suddenly everyone around him grew silent and their heads turned to him. He could hear the holo very clearly now. There were arguments. His mother’s name._

_And then her face, older now than he remembered. More frightened than he had seen her in any of her messages, of the few that had gotten through._

_Then her voice, strong and loud and clear._

_“My father was Darth Vader.”_

_Ben had felt the galaxy drop out from beneath him, and he was surprised to still be standing as the implication of the words_ crushed _down around him._

_He had known his mother had been adopted, had been raised separately from his uncle._

_But this...it was impossible, wasn’t it?_

_Now you see_

_The students began whispering again, their eyes never breaking from Ben._

_Ben Solo. So dark. So odd. It all made sense. He could feel the confirmation in their minds, the condemnation._

_Years of whispers came back. Not just his classmates and friends, witnessing him breaking into a fit._

_Adults, too, casting accusatory gazes on him, muttering when they thought he couldn’t hear: “The Solo boy is weird.”_

_“There’s something off about that child._

_“Strange.”_

_“Odd.”_

_“Wrong.”_

_They always thought him a strange monster. They’d always been right._

_He’d always been this._

_And his mother knew. Likely, his father, too. And Luke._

_They had seen him fight the darkness. They had seen him struggle against it night after night, sent him here to destroy it. And they had continued to lie to him about who he was._

_For once, he did not weep. Despite his desire to hide from the accusatory stares, he did not run._

_He just stared as the holonet replayed his mother’s confession from different angles, letting the knowledge chill him to his core._

_Darth Vader was his grandfather._

_Now you see your true nature_

_That meant he was…_

_He was..._

_Come, fulfill your purpose_

_At some point, he’d fled the hall, run faster than he ever had before._

_He could not go back to his hut. He knew they would find him there._

_When his wandering mind caught up to his body, he found that he had come to rest in the forest, sitting on the dirt amidst a thick grove of trees, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his face buried in his sleeves, now soaked through with his exhausted tears_

_He masked his Force signature as he had been taught. He did not want to be found here._

_He had tried so hard since he was a child. He’d known those nightmares. They had become a second reality. They warned him of the Darkness. They beckoned him deeper into the shadows._

_He had wanted nothing more than to fight it._

_He loved his mom and dad. He must have once..._

_Now he couldn’t imagine why._

_They had lied to him. They manipulated and controlled him._

_He had fought so hard to remain in the Light, thrashed madly against the tendrils of Darkness that lashed out for him._

_But it was all for nothing._

_Nothing he did would ever be good enough. He could never be good enough to destroy the monstrosity inside him, the evil that he had been born with. He had tried so hard to fortify his Light, to not become the beast everyone believed him to be, but he was doomed to fail. He could struggle still, but it would never be enough; the shadows weren’t just leeching onto him, they were a part of him he could never shake._

_He could never truly be good, truly eliminate the hateful nightmares that clawed at his heart because he was born to be this._

_He was Vader’s grandson. His Light would never be able to outshine the Darkness in his blood, the blood of Vader._

_He looked in horror at his hands, the thick blue veins laying heavy under his pale skin. There was evil in his heart, pumping shadows through his body; no matter how much he tried to resist, tried to swear he was not this, would never be this, he could not deny the dark truth that flowed through him. He had reached in vain for the Light, had lamented his failures every time he had slid further into the shadows. All for nothing. Vader’s grandson couldn’t escape his destiny._

_He reached out his feelings. Luke was searching for him, calling his name out into the forest._

_“Ben! Ben, I know you’re there. Please come out. I can explain everything. Please, Ben.”_

_Luke had told him there was nothing to fear, that there was Light in him still._

_Luke had lied to him._

_The Darkness would not lie._

_Come, fulfill your purpose_

_The Darkness would welcome him. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore._

_I’m just fulfilling my purpose._

_And you must fulfill yours._

He showed the crystal what had been in his heart for so long: the misery that had drained him. The anger that pounded through his veins, hotter than his blood.

For hours, they sparred. Kylo poured out every hurt that fueled his rage, his pain, his power. It was seemingly bottomless. Young though he was, Kylo’s heart seemed to be a vessel for sorrows, peppering the crystal with ache after ache, every hatred, every fear, each slowly pulling them both deeper into the Darkness, dragging the crystal further into its influence. The crystal tried to feel into his heart for soft, gentle memories, pieces of Ben that still held his Light.

But Kylo would not allow the light to glow without revealing the shadows it cast. Every happy moment, tainted with sorrow. Every joy had later been crushed by his parents’ mistrust.

Every memory Kylo shared was hollowing him out, scooping the still-beating heart out of his chest, casting raw nerves into the fire.

He knew Darkness. He knew pain and loss.

He had bled and bled his tender heart dry, first during his parents’ absence, then through Luke’s disdain. The only constant, then, had been the Darkness. It was where he went for comfort. It was where Snoke called him.

It had always been.

And the crystal showed him an image back:

_A child crying in an empty apartment, haunted by a scarred phantom in his dreams, night after night._

_There were no parents rushing to come to save him from the terrors that chased him in his mind, that prevented him from rest yet again. Father had fled while he was being bathed by a droid guardian. His mother had put him to bed and rushed to a meeting._

_The droids that cared for him would not awaken from their sleep cycles for hours yet._

_There was no light in his small bedroom, no relief from the darkness._

_And yet, the weak little heart in his chest racing desperately, he called out for his mother and father, his little wail lost in the night.  
_

Kylo responded with a new image.

_His mother returning in the morning, rushing into the apartment and calling for her son._

_The boy sat on the end of his bed, eyes locked on the wall in front of him, vacant, yet distant. Seeing something strange. Something beyond._

_His mother tried to bring him back to the focus, to return him to clarity._

_She could not know what he saw, what images the phantom put into his waking him._

_“Ben, Mommy’s here,” Leia said, insistent. She shook the small child’s thin shoulder._

_“Ben, please. Honey?”_

_Fire. Death. He knew so little of these things, but he saw his father’s body, lying still. His mother’s eyes unseeing. He was so young. He understood too much._

_His father stormed in soon after._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“Han, I think he’s having a seizure. He’s not moving.”_

_“Ben?”_

_Uncle Luke, Uncle Lando, Chewie. All perished. Unmoving. Pale and bloodless._

        _It’s all your fault,_ a voice whispered. _All your doing_

        _This is what you’ll become_

_Embrace it_

  _The little boy blinked, the voice vanishing into silence as he returned to the room, to the panicked shouts of parents who were finally home to notice him._

        _Embrace your fate_

The crystal trembled at this.

    _They love you_

_There is no coming back from this_

_Please, Jedi Ben_

_Please I don’t want this_

_Please I don’t want to die_

_They don’t love me_ , he snarled. _They never did. They could never see beyond themselves._

    _There was always the hallway. There was always_ _a closed door._

_These fights were frequent. They always thought he couldn’t hear._

_They thought he was asleep._

_If they paid any attention they would know that he never slept for fear of dreaming._

_Something must be done about Ben_

_Something is wrong with him_

_He’s a monster_

_He’s too dark_

_He can’t be helped_

_He can’t be like this_

_He watched this conversation dozens of times. His parents took turns being afraid of him and worrying for him, defending him and hating him._

_It was an unending cycle, but the message was always clear._

_Ben was the problem. Ben was ripping the family apart_

_Ben was wrong. Ben was born broken, disturbed_

_Ben was this. There was no fixing him, no escaping it_

_They could only try to mask it_

_Luke could try. They’d done enough. It was out of their hands now_

_Ben would have to go  
_

_Darkness was the only way forward for him._

Kylo’s sorrow and fury flowed like water through a broken dam, flooding the crystal with more heartache than it could carry.

He had let this pain sit in his chest, growing roots that burrowed deeper and deeper as he grew out of boyhood, where his fretful tears were accepted, and into manhood, where it was shameful to show weakness, to show the emotion that he bore so heavily, the fear that weighed him down. The insecurity that had held him close to a family that didn’t want him, that he didn’t need.

Ben Solo bled out and left Kylo Ren seated in the tiny chamber, stuffing the crystal full of the anxieties and anguish that pursued him for so long, the burdens and stresses of a legacy he had never asked for, the whispers of _not being enough_ or _not being worthy_ _of love_ that drained the Light right out of a heart so bright.

Somehow, the young man had borne it this long. No longer.

 _No,_ the stone moaned, hollow and weak.

_Oh, my sweet star boy, what have you done…_

The shard cracked, an ear-piercing shriek splitting into his mind. He howled with the pain of a spirit ripping in two. The stone clattered to the floor.

Then silence.

And Ben Solo, what was left of him after so much had been poured out and bled, sat in the small chamber, just as cracked, just as broken. Another invisible tear in his very soul, another phantom pain causing him to lash out.

Ben Solo was a boy who always cried about one thing or another. Tender-hearted and weak, Ben Solo had become Kylo Ren, whose tears resolved in howling rage, in anger. Kylo Ren, coated in sweat, wiped the tears from his drawn cheeks with the back of his hand. The last tears, he resolved, that Ben Solo would ever cry.

He picked up the crystal, now red and splintered.

He rose unsteadily to his feet, his legs weak beneath him, and admired his work.

A red kyber crystal. His crystal, bled from the deep well of Darkness within him. The long crack down the center of it was unusual. He wondered if that often happened in the bleeding process.

No matter. His task was complete. He was eager to show his master what he had done.

  

Ben’s eyes snapped open. The tapestry of old memories fell away as he took in his surroundings.

It had grown dark while he had been lost in his fruitless meditation. Beyond the cabin walls, the dilapidated wooden slats, the night insects had begun their familiar call.

His new crystal remained colorless before him.

He slammed his gloved fist against the ground in frustration.

He couldn’t linger any longer. He had been here all day, his mind desperately grasping for any thread of darkness that might impart his will onto the kyber. A whole day had passed, and he had no more idea of where to begin than he did when he first began. Sweat soaked through his undershirt, through his jacket sleeves. He pushed a damp lock of hair out of his face.

For the briefest instant, a slight breeze swept through the broken door, and he could imagine he had never left; that the galaxy beyond these walls was the same as it had been a few months prior, before they had been parted. He could picture that he was waiting for Rey’s nightly visit, for her to heal him and tease him and maybe curl up beside him.

The crystal in front of him silently reminded him that was not the case.

He unfolded his cramped legs and stretched his sore back.

He never imagined he would return here, but he hadn’t known where else to start.

The minute he had boarded the command shuttle after emerging from the cave, he felt the scrutiny of his ‘troopers. He squeezed the crystal tightly in his fist until it almost cut a hole into the small pouch.

“There are tools I need,” he had said, his voice cold and commanding through his mask. “The task will not be complete until I have that which I seek.”

It had been a flimsy lie. He could almost hear the crystal mocking him for it, but in his mechanical voice, the words sounded forceful, determined, and that was enough.

“Where to, then, my Lord?” the pilot had asked.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

Ben hadn’t been ready to return to the _Absolution_. Not yet. Not without a blade in hand.

Where could he find the solitude he needed to access the Darkness?  
  
The idea had nibbled at his mind, a joke at first that grew more deadly serious.

The planet’s name had left his lips before he could stop it.

_Takodana._

When they approached Takodana’s atmosphere, he had ordered the command shuttle to land near the ruins of Maz’s palace. He had taken off on foot.

He had felt solitude here. He had felt Darkness here, Darkness threatening to overtake him. But it hadn’t been his.

It had been Rey’s, cradling his mind, possessing him…

He had felt pain here, too. Pain in his whole body. Pain enough that the memory of it might be able to drain this crystal as he had his first one.

He stopped and almost scoffed at himself. His had been mere physical pain. _Hers_ had been far deeper.

Heartbreak, betrayal, bitterness; those cold and insidious coils had wrapped themselves around his throat and his mind and had choked out his own anguish so easily. He remembered the memory she had shown him, the dark emptiness in her mind where he had been. The gaping wound left in her soul without his presence in her mind. He remembered it as if it had been his own heart breaking over those two hundred days of silence. He knew that pain. It was as much his as it was hers. They had shared so little together; they were united by the Force, and they had shared their bodies for a few hours, but there was something permanent about that hollowness they exchanged, something horrible, beautiful, uniquely theirs.

No one could take it from him. It was something entirely _theirs._ And he longed for that exquisite, fleeting connection. It stung him to be without it.

He would get it back. He would get her back.

He could only hope it would work.

The Force here felt familiar, and it had been too easy to trace his way back to the cabin. The journey was long and he welcomed it. He felt easier, freer than he had in ages, the wind and air hitting the skin above his mask. He entered the cabin of his own will now, his body stronger than it had been before, but his spirit more exhausted than he believed possible.

The cabin was overgrown now without Rey to mind it. It was unnervingly eerie without the pallet, the medical supplies. Rey, tapping on a datapad, keeping him company, caring for him, in spite of his awful moods.

The whole galaxy felt the same; uncomfortably empty without her presence.

He had pushed the thought aside as he settled onto the floor, assuming a meditative posture.

He took the crystal out of its pouch and sat it in front of him.

He did not know where to begin, and the thought filled him with panic.

He had focused on the Force for hours, trying to tap into the memories of pain her had felt here. He tried to feel the crystal’s energy, tried to tap into his own. His did not flow freely into the stone. He was missing something.

He had closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he had poured his soul into a stone, to see what he had done correctly. He replayed the memory over again, trying to find some guidance in the past. Let himself feel every ache in his spirit again, recall the sting of the last time he had fractured himself so deeply. As he emerged from his memories, felt little clarity.

Snoke. Snoke had been in his head last time, he realized, running his fingers through his damp hair in frustration. Now he was liberated and directionless. Freedom like this was terrifying.

Did he have enough pain to muster this time? Enough sorrows since he bled his last crystal?

He tried not to think of his father, of the blade he pressed through Han’s chest. Of his failure on Crait. The emotions were too raw, too tender and cowardly...

_Is something the matter, shadow boy?_

He jerked himself upright. Another voice in his mind after so many hours alone in his own head made him almost jump out of his own skin. For a second he had allowed himself to hope it was Rey before he recognized it.

 _There are many memories in this place,_ it chirped. _Many flickers, bright and strong. Did you lose your light here?_

His last crystal had not been this conversational, and he remembered little more than pleased hums from it once he began the process of crafting his lightsaber. This one, however, would not be silent. He bristled. The crystal was breaking his already fragmented concentration. It was getting late. He needed to go, but he was compelled to stay.

 _Your light,_ it had said.

His light. He thought only of her. How luminous she felt to him.

_Ah, yes. Show me more._

The little rock trilled an absent tune, dissolving into a chuckle that resonated in the same space that Rey had occupied. Her laugh.

_She shines so brightly. And you are her shadow, are you not?_

He stared at the colorless stone. _My light...my light is gone._

That chuckle again. A mocking imitation.

_Foolish little shadow. Darkness cannot exist without the light._

_But I can’t find her,_ he growled. _I’ve tried. She’s not dead, she’s...nowhere. Gone._

 _When the suns set do you also forget how daylight looked?_ the crystal teased lightly.

He didn’t want to think that his memories of her were fading, that he was losing her caresses, her smiles, the scent of her hair, each flickering away and fading into the cold durasteel walls of the First Order prison he had made for himself.

But he couldn’t feel her anywhere. Her star had gone out, like the sun over Starkiller. And he was losing hope.

 _She is more than daylight._ He had no Light in him anymore, but she was Light itself. His missing Light, gone where he couldn't feel her.

If a rock could have smiled, this one would have. _Is she? Is she so extraordinary as to outshine the very stars?_

He tugged at his wrist, where his ribbon had been. Its little glow his only radiance for months while they separated, while he kept her out.

He did not answer. He couldn’t explain how she was so bright as to even cast away his Darkness while he was in her arms. But he did not owe an explanation to a taunting rock.

He needed to cast his will upon it. But he needed to summon more pain first to do so.

_You will not find your sun in this hut, shadow boy. Keep looking._

_No,_ he agreed. _Not here._

He couldn’t bring himself to return to the cave. But he knew somewhere else he just might find a trace of her. He hastily returned the crystal to its pouch and strode out of the hut for the last time.

He quickly found his way to the Resistance base in the dark, moonless night. The emergency lamps were still running on a backup power source. It hadn’t been abandoned long, he knew, yet the planet seemed eager to reclaim it, casting climbing vines across the base’s exteriors.

He felt for her, for any sign.

He thought he glimpsed sparks of her light here and there, but perhaps he was mistaken.

He forced his way through the main entrance, trailed down the maze of dark, empty hallways.

Until he felt little memories of her in the Force.

They seemed to call to him as he walked down the corridor.

There was a small room in the corner with a door propped open.

His raised hand hesitated for a moment before pushing the door aside.

Inside, it was luminous.

Rey’s touch was all over the space, even though everything important had been ransacked from some time ago. The small bed, now tossed on its side, had cradled her. She had wept into it, mourned the silence of him as she called out to him from across the stars. There were abandoned uniforms left strewn about by an empty closet, her essence woven into the fabric so that each drab garment shone like shimmersilk. The plants on the windowsill, dry and dead, bore her tender caress.

Little bits of radiance. Her last rays of light, cast out into a galaxy determined to forget her.

But he couldn’t. Not after before.

His own words came back to him.

_I had to get rid of you to survive. Are you happy now?_

He traced a dried leaf on one of the plants with the tip of one gloved finger. He had left her once, cut her off because he believed if he stayed in contact with her, he would miss her too much, wouldn’t survive the pain of being parted. He left her, ripped himself in two, because he knew letting her go might be the only unselfish thing he could do in his miserable life than share the anguish he felt with her.

He had fractured himself before, once to bleed his kyber, once to keep himself from suffering the regret of letting her go.

_There is some pain that didn't make me stronger. And I can't get rid of it any more than I can use it._

There it was. He remembered the hollowness of missing her before, how he thought himself weak for it, and cut her off.

Now he felt it acutely.

Canto Bight. That’s where the nexus of his pain was.

He had ripped himself apart for her on Cantonica. And he would do it again gladly to find her again, to fix his mistakes. To bring her home to him.holo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that really held up most of the rest of the story, so I'm sorry, but to be fair, this was the chapter where I had to bleed a fucking kyber crystal for your amusement.


	12. Chapter 12

“By the very fangs

of malice I swear, I am not that I play.”

          Twelfth Night, or What You Will, I.V

* * *

The beeping coming from Ben’s personal comm was incessant. He could only gather that the party on the other end of the transmission was just as irritating as the sound itself. Assuming only the most severe of emergencies, he engaged the holo transmission.

Hux didn’t wait for an invitation before beginning his performance of loyalty.

He inclined his head with the most abbreviated bow that was permissible without being considered seditious.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said, his tone clipped and smirking. “You are looking well this morning.”

He was full of it. Ben had barely slept. Too much intergalactic travel was making his body lose its sense of time. Though, he realized, that was probably the least of his worries. His thoughts were furious, so even if he could orient himself to a sleep schedule, it wouldn’t be easy to rest.

“I trust that your...errand is going well?”

Ben had been in the midst of a meditation when Hux had interrupted. He had left explicit orders that he should only be contacted during severe emergencies. He would attend to his messages at a later date. 

He glared at the small, blue facsimile of the man who had been imperious enough to disrupt his journey with some irritating nonsense.

“It is a wonder that you even bothered with pleasantries, given the apparent desperation of your call. What is your business, General?”

Hux’s mouth turned briefly sour before stretching into something simpering that an outsider might call a smile. 

"The Council rejoices at your...triumphant return to power, my Lord. We as your advisors, your _friends,_ are eager to extol your sovereignty across the galaxy. As such, we are planning a celebration in your honor."

That started Ben out of his stupor.

“A celebration? Of what nature?”

"A gala, my Lord. I am told that these often involve drinking, dancing, general merriment. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself."

Ben bristled. Dancing. “It is not necessary.” He looked elsewhere in his small travel quarters, desperate for Hux to address the actual important business. The kyber was heavy in his pocket and he wanted to resume meditating before they made planetfall.

The hologram rolled its eyes.

“Everything is already set in motion. We only need your approval on a few particulars.”

“I never approved of any such event. Cancel it.” He waved a dismissive hand, which should have ended the conversation.

"With all due respect, Supreme Leader, I am not here to ask your permission to do this. I am merely informing you of the event. The invitations are already in the hands of your most loyal supporters. We cannot cancel it."

“ _What_?” Ben Solo, son of Leia Organa, renowned senator and princess of Alderaan, had absolutely no diplomacy left in his system. His voice erupted from the vocoder, edged with vicious static.

Hux swallowed a scoff. "Surely, one evening in the company of trusted friends and allies isn't a death sentence."

“I don’t—” he began, halting himself and stopping to inhale sharply. His surroundings were beginning to rumble of their own accord. No, this was not the time for this. He needed to collect himself. 

“This is highly unwelcome. I can’t imagine how this is productive to the First Order’s mission.”

"Supreme Leader, consider the opportunity. This is a chance to show the galaxy your strength and endurance as our ruler. Let them see that the Supreme Leader of the First Order is not one to be hindered by mere death. No Resistance missile can stop the indomitable Kylo Ren!" 

Ben scowled behind his mask. He was _good,_ damn him.

"A party? That is how we will showcase our resilience?”

Of course, his mind couldn’t help but roam to the last ill-fated event of this type he attended. It had been miserable. But there was one bright spot, one he was chasing still.

There would be no joy in this. Just painful reminders. No more painful than the everyday drudgery, of course, but still. He'd be looking for Rey in every swish of skirts, in every smile, in every curtsy.

It was a knife in the gut he hadn't expected.

"The Council agreed _unanimously_ that this would be a beneficial event for the Order. To remind our supporters that we are still strong in our convictions." Hux arched a ginger eyebrow. "And in our leadership."

The General shifted a bit under his superior’s scrutiny but maintained the glare he shot back at Ren. 

“And I wonder how many of those supporters will remain loyal to us after being snubbed so thoroughly by the Supreme Leader himself," Hux hissed.

“The Council? The entire Council thought this was a good idea? So good, in fact that I was not expected to learn about this until I’m halfway across the galaxy on a mission?”

His voice was smooth, controlled, but the seething anger in it would not be something Hux would miss.

“Yes, my Lord,” the General retorted shamelessly. “Less chance of property damage.”

The snarl that tore out of Ren's mask was inhuman. Hux was right, after all; Ben absolutely would have pummeled him into the next system if had they been in the same room. 

“I am not some sort of cheap spectacle for the masses. I do not require diversions of this sort.”

“ _You_ may not, but your supporters do.” Hux’s image seemed to want to pace. “You were missing in action for weeks, Supreme Leader. Rumors of your demise were spreading. The statement announcing your return to power will not hold the beasts at bay much longer. Your people need to _see_ you alive. It’s politics. It’s only _dancing._ ”

The General scoffed, high on his own logic. 

"Surely your Senator of a mother taught you this much?" Leave it to Hux to make the word 'senator' sound like an insult worth spitting.

Ben bolted to his feet, hunched and ready to attack.

" _Don't you dare assume to speak about my life_ ," he growled, his throat tightening in panic. He _knew?_ How could Hux know? More importantly, how long had he known the truth?

More terrifying yet: what other knowledge was the General holding back?

Hux at least had the wherewithal to flinch slightly.

"Apologies, my Lord," he mumbled to the floor. “But the gala will go ahead as planned. Whether you like it or not.”

Ben slowly slid back to his seat. This was one battle he could not win. Maybe he should have spent more time studying his mother. He would have been bored to death before the Darkness could have gotten its claws on him, but he would have been prepared for his current role.

“What drove you to bring this matter to my attention now, of all times?”

"Just a few minor details for you to approve," the General said.

He produced a datapad and looked over it with a bored expression. "There were a number of individuals we needed your ultimate acceptance of before we invited them."

"Anyone of consequence?"

"Conewa Nylak, O'oland Rogann, Spira Cyer'ra, Dwane Soruta..."

"What?" Ben snapped back to attention. "What was that last name?"

"Dwane Soruta. Sole remaining heir to a real estate mogul on Coruscant," Hux sniffed. "Nouveau riche and itching for political power."

"His brother died on Canto Bight."

"Hence 'sole heir,' my Lord."

He had hoped for death for both of the sniveling brothers at the ball after their treatment of Rey. 

Even now, he could only feel regret that one of them yet lived.

"I knew of them both. They were worthless cowards. Why would you invite him?"

"He has family money and connections in the Core Worlds that we need. Coruscant still remembers the Hosnian System, and we need the Core Worlds on our side."

"How desperately do we need him?"

Hux leveled a flat glare at the Supreme Leader. "We cannot afford to lose support, Ren. Not even from bottom feeding scum like the Soruta family."

"Well, at least we are in agreement that he isn't worth our time," he muttered. Maybe now he'd get a chance to finish what he started on Canto Bight with the arrogant heir. "Is there any reason for me to feign interest in this list if you have already determined that they are all valuable acquaintances?"

"Do you approve their invitations, my Lord?" Hux snapped.

"It seems like choice is an illusion," Ben said, turning an accusing gaze on his general. "I approve, if for no other reason than I do not wish to give this event any further thought. Anything else?”

“There is a matter of your attire for the evening, though I presume it will be something black.”

“For the first time today, you have presumed correctly. The tailor will be able to handle this matter upon my return.”

Hux’s eyes rolled. “Very good, my Lord. That will be all.”

He paused. “The event will be in three weeks, so I must respectfully request that you at least attempt to return to the _Absolution_ before then.”

“I will not dance.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t care what other spectacle you have planned for this event, I will not be part of it. I’m not dancing.”

He loved dancing with Rey in the alley. In the rain on Takodana, he had offered Rey his name in exchange for a dance when he was healed. And still, there was a part of him—the same sad, scared part that had cried out to the night when the bad dreams came, seeking protection that never arrived—that intended to keep that promise. He would find her. He would dance with her.

He would not be this.

But for now, he had to pretend to be, and he did not recognize himself.

Hux gave a sharp nod. “As you wish, Supreme Leader. I will take my leave.” Without any further fuss, the General’s holo disconnected.

Another ball. Three weeks. That wasn’t enough time to dread it, and certainly not enough to get her back.

He wanted to snap a panel on the wall around him, but it wouldn’t relieve his anger, his disgust.

This is what he wanted after all. As the ghost had reminded him in his dream, this is what he had chosen.

For a moment, the crystal was forgotten.

He thought only of a woman dressed in smoke, looking through his mask and into his heart.

He was pulled out of his desolate reverie by an announcement that the ship was preparing to breach the atmosphere shortly.

One grim task after another.

This was what he had chosen.

 

Landing on Canto Bight was much harder than Takodana. The First Order’s authority was only loosely recognized, which did not grant the Supreme Leader enough authority for his command shuttle access to any of the private landing pads.

The public landing pad would allow him to be closer to the spot where he said goodbye to Rey, to better access the memory. However, an intimate moment with his memories was denied him, as his ‘trooper guards insisted on accompanying him through the city.

“We must accompany you, my Lord,” one said.

“We don’t think it’s safe after last time, sir,” another added, hesitant to say, “though we’re not sure why you want to return to a city where you were almost murdered in an uprising.”

Though his heart sought out the spot where they had kissed goodbye, he had to pass it without fanfare despite the tugging in his soul demanding him to stay. Flanked by his blaster-wielding entourage, he began to press forward into the city, seeking solitude in a city that seemed determined to give him little peace.

Super Star Destroyers were practically floating cities in and of themselves. Ben was used to the sterile hum of their halls; passing indoctrinated ‘troopers and braindead officers was like brushing flotsam aside while wading in a stagnant lake. 

Walking in Canto Bight was like swimming against a hurricane.

The scents he remembered from the cafes and street vendors were filtered by his mask, but there was no barrier between his other senses and the writhing mass of life around him.

The Force rang through his skull, pulsing with noise and light and energy behind his sleep-deprived eyelids. Since his conversation with Hux, he had been on edge, and he wasn’t able to separate the threads of the Force weaving and tangling themselves in his mind. Each sensation seemed to wrap on itself. Each life form that brushed past him and his escort seemed to leave a piece of themselves behind on his clothes and the little exposed skin above his mask. Even after a few yards, the weight of each being was becoming hard to handle.

Voices in a myriad of tongues bombarded him, but the Force, in its infinite wisdom and cruelty, made sure he heard every word in Basic.

“...an odd one,” huffed a heavily-painted matron of indeterminate age from her throne on a ramshackle veranda. 

Her slightly younger companion hiccuped over the rim of a flask. “Even the roughed up ones are worth something.”

“Not this one…nasty scars.”

He kept his eyes forward, stifling the anger that burned his gut and the shame, always lingering below his surface, that threatened to pink his cheeks.

_“Your people need to see you alive.”_

He was not the Supreme Leader here. He was a masked face in a crowd, flanked by other faceless beings. Like the animals roasted on spits on street corners, he was merely waiting to be consumed. 

Contempt was more open here. In that way, it was refreshing. But his mind was racing. He felt trapped by others, their voices and thoughts in his mind. He couldn’t have these distractions. He was on a mission. He was running out of time.

That didn’t stop unwelcome whispers from badgering him.

The screech of a young child, its arm caught in the fierce grip of its mother.

“Why would you run away from me like that?” she barked. 

The child only wailed louder, inconsolable as it was dragged away into a nearby house.

“Do you want the monster to come for you?”

He couldn’t turn his head, see who was looking at him. He kept his gaze forward, his eyes as passive as he could muster. 

_Monster._

Why did he heard that word and always assume it was about him?

 _Because for so long, it was. It still is._  
  
His mind was transported back to the cabin, to Rey’s face pressed against his back as she tightened his wrappings, her nervous, soft breath against his shoulder blade.

_Monster._

He was no monster then. But now he could catch glimpses of himself in darkened windows, and he saw all the terrors that haunted him on display. He wore his greatest fears, had become them.

He was terrorizing this city.

He had no idea where he needed to go. He pushed along, throwing himself deeper into the crush of bodies, making their way to their evening destinations.

He tried to make his way towards the edge of the city where he could break away for the hills, but he felt blocked by more lifeforms every step he took, and his little knowledge of the city’s geography was challenged with every pass.

The chatter, he felt, seemed to be growing louder.

“Where did you go?”

He whipped his head around. He thought...

A stormtrooper looked at him.

“My Lord?”

He really thought the voice was calling for him this time.

“Nothing,” he said, his eyes seeking desperately for the sound but only seeing the white armored soldiers around him amidst the crowd. 

He drew his hood up and turned back, making it a few more steps before another insistent voice seemed to tug at his mind.

“Why did you leave?”

He hesitated, then pressed forward.

“...all alone.”

The voices were louder, but he couldn’t hear what direction they came from.

He couldn’t halt. 

They weren’t for him.

“Come back!”

Get to the beach. Get to the hills. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just get out of here.

“She’s waiting for you…”

He clapped his hands to his ears.

He thought he heard them ask if he was alright, but he couldn’t he sure. He rocked forward. 

He had to get away. The voices...

“...been looking for you…”

How could he still hear them?

“I’ll find you!”

_No._

“She’s looking for you…”

“ _STOP!”_

Ben’s mechanical shout seemed to finally stop the noise as every eye in the square turned toward him. In his anger and panic, he had shot his arms out, creating a bubble around himself with the Force, sending his ‘troopers and other unfortunate passersby stumbling over themselves as they were shoved away, shaken but otherwise unharmed.

The cacophony of thoughts and words was blessedly silent as he looked up.

Some eyes watched him in terror. Others in wonder. Few in pity. The stares were just as loud as the words in his mind had been.

He didn’t think any longer.

He bolted, shoving through the shocked crowd and hurrying down an alleyway.

He tugged along the Force, trying to find purchase on a world that would have him going mad in hatred of himself.

It took mercy on him, this time, and he soon found himself in a familiar neighborhood.

He knew the way from here.

 

 

The climb was more difficult this time. Maybe he was less fit than he was before the crash. He was definitely older. He was certainly more distracted.

He hoisted himself over the edge of the cliff to what had been arms dealer Shwa’warth’s yard. Instead, he saw the ruins of what had once been the grand property.

He had watched it burn.

No one had tried to reclaim the property. The gardens were overgrown. The plant life that could survive in this climate without constant minding had overtaken the beds and planters, spilling out in tangles of leaves and branches. 

He strolled through them, admiring the tenacity of the remaining plants.

He could barely recognize what had survived of the structure. The roof with its many grand arches had collapsed, along with the bright, stately corridors, leaving the surviving stonework strewn with twisted metal. The upper levels with the lavish bedrooms seemed to have vanished completely. The ash had long since blown away. 

But the stairs remained, strong and proud as ever, and Ben ascended them, feeling the memory of Rey growing stronger as he rose, passing the landing where he held her and they almost kissed.

He emerged onto the balcony. Her radiance dappled the surface despite the bright afternoon sun. Feeling the surface beneath him was still holding strong, he strode to the center of the balcony.

He looked to where the large glass doors had been. There was no sign of the walls, of the window panes. But though the manor was little more than a heap of ashes, there was the ballroom floor.

A man haunted, he slowly walked to the charred marble floor.

_I will not dance._

He hadn’t recognized the voice coming from his mouth as he spoke to Hux. It was inhuman. It was the voice of a machine. These words were not his. These were the words of a tyrant. 

Ben Solo loved Rey. Kylo Ren, too, loved Rey. Rey the scavenger. Rey the Jedi. She was nothing and everything and he would fall to his knees before her and beg for her forgiveness if only he could find her…

Another ball. It was the last thing he needed. 

But it was what he deserved.

Another night as a puppet tyrant for the First Order. Another night as a murderous shadow of himself. Another night, another tally, no Rey.

His punishment would be to see the ball for another side, to suffer her absence publicly.

He walked to the center of the exposed floor and took a seat.

He might be able to bleed the crystal now.

He pulled the pouch out of his pocket and sat it in front of him before removing his gloves.

He closed his eyes. He felt the Force flow through the gnarled, destroyed building.

He felt the spots where he and Rey had stood. The staircase they had descended arm-in-arm, a wraith and a beauty and the strange, beautiful agreement that had grown between them. She accepted him as her Darkness. He welcomed her as his light.

He felt the kyber crystal before him. He lifted it carefully, watching it hover over the sooty floor.

He found the anguish he had felt on the command shuttle at Hux’s news, in the midst of malicious whispers on the crowded streets. He soaked the crystal full of memories and possibilities and regrets from moments long past before they disappeared like ash in the wind.

He felt only her.

He felt himself rise, and turn.

The manor was whole again. The floor was empty and clean. And there, on the grand staircase, she stood, clad in smoke and shadow. His memories carried fresh anguish; the Force seemed to thrum with repressed pain. The crystal. It could feel this.

_Finally._

And her face came into view.

She stood perfectly still mere feet from him, a small, serenely knowing smile upturning her sweet lips. The light of crystalline chandeliers danced across the curve of her shoulders and snared in her loose waves of golden brown hair. She looked perfect and radiant and just as he remembered her. 

“Why are you wearing the mask again, Ben?” she asked. Her voice was soft and quiet, yet it echoed in the empty room.

His hands fumbled behind his jaw for the release but felt nothing. 

"I'm not..." he said softly, but his words were tainted by the harsh metallic rasp of his vocoder.

He pressed his fingers to his mouth and was met with the hard metal of his half-mask.

She moved forward, gliding on the shining marble floor with a faint whisper of fabric. 

“Will you let me help you?”

 _Yes, Rey, please,_ he begged, but when he spoke, the words were officious, hollow.

"I don't know if you can."

Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes darkened with pain. Her hands, uncovered, rose slowly to his face. 

“What if I want to try anyway?”

_Get rid of it. Look at me. I want you to see me._

Her fingers alighted behind his jaw, delicate and gentle as they searched for the release catch. She was so close, he could see the thick fan of her eyelashes against her cheek, watch the tremor of her heartbeat fluttering the creamy skin of her breast, count the freckles that dusted her shoulders.

Her touch was a balm and a blister as her rough fingers traced along his jaw. How could he feel her? How was this real? He wanted to touch her, too, but he did not trust his hands. They were weapons. They would only harm her. He did not trust himself.

"What do you think you'll see?"

“The man I love.”

"You can't mean that."

“Why do you say that?”

"I left you alone again. And now I can't find you. You wouldn't like me if you saw me as I am now."

“And what are you now that would so disgust me?”

"Everything you hate. A coward. A failure. The Supreme Leader. I'm not your Ben. I failed at that, too."

_Please, where are you, let me find you, Rey, please._

The mask released with a click and a sigh. The dark metal came away in her hands. She let it fall away to the floor with a clattering thud and her eyes never left his. 

“Then who am I looking at right now?”

Her fingers came up to trace the line in his cheek that she had given him. 

“Who are you?”

"I don't know," his own voice said. "I only know when I'm with you."

Her thumb caressed his cheekbone as her palm pressed to his jaw. 

“Well, here I am,” she said lightly, sweetly. She was starlight made flesh, so close that all he had to do was reach out to touch her. 

“So tell me: who are you?”

He felt frozen, rooted to the spot. He was clad in the expectations of the First Order still, in the blackness and power he once had coveted. But with Rey here, her eyes earnest and warm as they traced along his face...he wanted nothing more than to leave it behind.

"I'm so lost, cyar'ika. I can't find you. I can't find myself."

He looked at the mask on the floor.

"I am the role I have to play. But not for you. For you...for you, I don’t have to pretend."

Finally, he met her gaze. She was devastating, always devastating, the light playing off her eyes mischievously.

"Tell me where you are so I can be home again."

Her smile turned sad and she shook her head. 

“Oh, my love,” she whispered, soft regret staining her words. “You know I can’t.”

"Please," he begged, tightness and fear gripping his chest. "I can be your Ben again. But I need _you._ "

Her hands held his face, her touch so light that it felt like a memory. 

“Then _think,_ Ben.”

Her gaze was intent, her face was so close. 

“Find me. I know you can.”

"I'm too much in the Darkness, please," he said with a sob. "I feel so lost..."

She leaned even closer, the whisper of lips just barely brushing against the corner of his mouth. 

“Find me,” she murmured. 

Then she stepped back, the distance between them stretching painfully. Her fingertips fell away from his face. Before he could stop it, she melted into the air. Gone again.

"No!" he shouted, and taking off at a sprint, he raced blindly towards the spot where she stood. His shin smacked against an unseen obstacle and he was sent sprawling onto the floor. He lifted his head up and blinked several times, clearing his sight. 

The vision passed; the ballroom was in ruins again, and Rey was gone.

His hand smarted. Groaning, he opened his fist. The crystal had cut into his palm when he fell.

The colorless stone chuckled lightly.

" _Ha! You are a funny one, shadow boy. You are already cracking. One more push and you'll shatter. And then will your song-mate pick your pieces back up again, hm? What a funny shadow you are, seeking that which will be your destruction._ "

Sitting up gingerly, he looked at the oozing cut on his palm. He plucked the crystal with his right hand, his blood tinting it.

It took all his self-control not to throw the rock into the rubble and leave it there.

" _Did you like my little show? Did it please you to see her again?_ "

The crystal hummed dreamily. " _So lovely she was. So full of life and light. I could hear her singing in your memories._ "

His anger burned his ears. He could feel the heat rising to his collar.

"Why did you do that?" he snarled.

" _You seek to be soothed, shadow boy,_ " it said coolly. " _I thought it would please you. Or make it easier._ "

"You're mocking me. You're using her against me."

" _Pain for pain. Seems a fair price._ "

He barely caught his arm before he dashed the crystal on the floor. 

"You don't get to use her to torture me!"

" _And you don't get to use her to break me!_ " it snapped.

He stared at the stone, caked in smudges of rust-colored blood.

He no longer found that he could care whether or not the stone was referring to dashing it across the floor or bleeding it red. He contemplated it in silence. He just needed this suffering to end.

"What do you want with me?"

The crystal scoffed. " _This isn't about what I want, shadow boy. It is about what you need. The Rey you saw may have been a mere illusion, but her words rang true, did they not?_ "

Again, Rey's voice filled his mind. 

" _Then think, Ben. Find me. I know you can._ "

"Stop it!" He clapped his hands to his ears. "Stop using her voice!"

" _Why? When you will listen to no one but her?_ " the shade of Rey continued, unperturbed. " _Think, shadow boy. You are the scion of Vader, no? You are one of the most powerful Force-users in the known cosmos. Use your power. Do better. Find her._ "

His head rang with the agony of her voice in his mind. He rocked forward, pressing his forehead to the ground. 

"I can't!I've tried everything!"

" _Do. Better._ "

"I can't feel her. There was no sign of where she went on Takodana. Should I just turn myself over to the Resistance in exchange for her life?"

The shade scoffed, the sound eerily similar to Rey's own sound of exasperation. 

" _And a foolish shadow, too. Go further back. Where before Takodana? Where before Cantonica? Think._ "

He felt into his memories of the space inside Rey's head. What else WAS there? She had blocked him for so long. 

Crait? That's where he last saw her in the Force. Starkiller and the Supremacy were long gone, useless.

"Jakku?"

" _Is that what you remember? Sand and rust?_ "

"That's all she knew. She didn't know the Force. Just sand and rust. Starships. Loneliness..."

_I've never felt so alone._

_You're not alone._

That space in the Force. She was with Skywalker. He never saw that place, only felt it.

She couldn't be there, could she? 

And if she was, how would he even get there.

“ _She burned so brightly in the Force. Surely a light such as hers left a trail somewhere?_ “

He looked up into the darkening sky.

"Only what she touches retains her light."

The crystal seemed to sigh. 

“ _Reach out,_ “ it said, its stolen voice low and gentle. “ _Think about that night. Your connection. It goes deeper than the Force, yes?_ “

He thought of Snoke sneering as he declared "It was I who bridged your minds." Rey's companionship, her empathy, something like forgiveness, was the first real experience that had torn the blanket of darkness and hatred that he had mistaken for comfort. She was real. And what they'd experienced in the Force wasn't something Snoke was going to take away from him. At that moment, he had vowed he would kill Snoke before losing Rey, and that was what he had done.

But what was deeper than the Force?

"What do you mean?"

“ _The Force does not create love, does it? It does not sustain it or destroy it. You do not need the Force to love her._ “

He cradled the stone now, a little shard of light in his ash-blackened hands. He thought of the months that had separated him and Rey. How he longed for her still, despite the pain it caused.

"I guess not."

“ _You love her?_ “

He swallowed. "If I know nothing else, I know that."

“ _Then there is Light in you still. I will help you find what you’re looking for, little shadow._ “

He winced. He can't have Light. Not if he was going to bleed this crystal.

But if what it promised was true, then he might not need to bleed it after all.

"Take me to her."

“ _I cannot; I am but a mere crystal,”_ it said with a chuckle. “ _But she can tell you where to go.”_

  
Behind him, he heard familiar voices, one soft, musical, full of fury, the other deadly, vicious, mechanical. He whipped around, but there was no one there.  
  
Just a trail of light, shimmering like a comet’s tail.  
  
Rising carefully, he followed it across the ballroom floor and out onto cracked and scorched stone. But the light he followed was unmistakable. 

_“You call me beloved...yet you have no heart to feel with. You are a hypocrite, Kylo Ren. A broken man hiding behind a mask. And we are both fooling ourselves if we think that we...that we could ever be more.”_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker. Two glimmering phantoms of memory, clad in finery, arguing on the ruined balcony. 

 _“You’re correct about a lot of things,”_ he heard, the words staticky through the old mask. _“I am a heartless, broken man behind this shell. You try to use that to attack me as if I don’t already know what I am, what I have been made to be. You have seen me. Seen to the very core of me. So tell me: is any of what you accused me of supposed to hurt me?”_

He felt as if he were a voyeur peering in on his own argument, but in a flash, he watched the memory of himself and Rey disappear down the steps. He followed a few paces away, watching himself remove the helmet and continue his tirade.

Rey had been right; he looked like nerf shit that night. But she watched him with a tender focus as if she was learning every curve of his jaw, his nose, his lips; an artist preparing to paint him from memory. And maybe, those nights that he had kept them apart, that’s exactly what she did: piece together her memories of his features into a portrait that she kept close to her heart. He had done the same since the moment the Force bond closed between them on Crait. Yet every time he saw her, she was more beautiful than any memory.

“ _...I know what you think: how easy it could be for me to reject the darkness and join you in the light. But do you think for one second I could have walked off that crashing ship with you? I could have, what, gone to the Resistance and expected them to welcome me with open arms?”_

If he knew then what he did now, Ben would have done it in a heartbeat. His regrets and mistakes sat heavy upon his back, and looking back on the few, precious moments he had had with her, those decisions choked him. He could barely breathe to see her looking at his past self, to remember the way her waist had felt under his touch, to watch her take his hand in hers.

_“You are the only one in years who has tried to see me for more than just a scion of Lord Vader, the nephew of Skywalker, the son of Organa and Solo. As all of those things, and yet more than the sum of them. I wanted to be that person one more time.”_

_“Ben,”_ she whispered. 

Ben was startled. He’d missed hearing her call him by his name more than he thought possible.

_“I never wanted any of this to begin with. The Resistance, the Force, the Jedi, the First Order? I was going to live and die in the desert, untouched by all of it. If I hadn't found that droid, I never would have been pulled into all of this. I never would have awakened in the Force, found the Resistance, gone to Ahch-To...met you.”_

“ _Does that name mean anything to you?”_

For a moment, he thought the crystal meant his name, muttered like a benediction under her breath but then he thought carefully about what else Rey had said in his memory. 

“Ahch-To?” It felt strange on his tongue. “Was that…”

Images and sensations ran through his mind in rapid succession as the spectral ballroom dancers faded away. 

Wind tugging at her cloak, saltwater spraying his face, the faint cry of seabirds mixing with the shrieks of sparking metal. A warm fire. A cold, shivering hand reaching out for his. 

Everything.

And then, in a burst of energy and sound, nothing.

“Is that where she is?”

“ _You said you do not know where she is or how to find her. You do not know where to find yourself. Trust your instincts, shadow boy. Find Ahch-To. The island is wise. It will help you find your Rey again._ ”

“And how do I find Ahch-To?” His heart began to race. Hope. It had become so foreign he almost felt sick with it.

He felt the crystal chirp a little laugh.

“ _You look for it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crystal is essentially a Force-sensitive version of Clippy, the Microsoft Word assistant paperclip.
> 
> You can only imagine the kind of hell Ben is in.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You do not have the strength to bleed again, Ben Solo. You are cracked._

The rain hammered the shuttle mercilessly as Ben brought it to land on the craggy island. The Force was like a swarm of gnats, fluttering and dancing around him as he felt for a landing site. It normally felt much more relaxed than this.

No wonder the crystal had sent him here. The Force was bright and alive, he could feel it. He dared to imagine he could feel her.

Ben had wondered bitterly if his father would have been pleased that his son had stolen a ship from the First Order to travel to Ahch-To alone, but it had been almost shamefully easy. He tore the tracker off his belt, leaving his bewildered ‘troopers to seek him in the hills over Canto Bight, while he fled back to the city to reclaim the ship and take off to…

_Where?_

_Follow your heart, shadow boy. Where does it tell you?_  
_  
_ It tells me I need to get out of this system as soon as possible before I get taken prisoner by my own regime.

_Then do that._

_And then what?_

_We’ll figure that out soon enough, won’t we?_

This began a frustrating process of drawing out small threads in the Force. The crystal knew where Ahch-To was, but none of the navigation charts in the First Order did. He blocked incoming holos from frantic, terrified officers, leaving one final notice that he would return to the _Absolution_ before the gala.

He also requested a transport for his abandoned guards on Cantonica, with a gentle request that not much harm befall them; his leave was his own decision, not their failure. He did not want them punished.

However, after several days of failing to find any galactic body even resembling Ahch-To, he was on the verge of punishing every last console in the ship with his fists.

_What seems to be the problem, shadow boy?_ the crystal trilled from its vantage point on the nav computer.

He groaned. This crystal was about as vague as Luke and a thousand times more annoying. “I’m lost.”

_I can see that._

“I have scanned every system within range of Crait for planets that Rey could have traveled from to get to the _Supremacy_ in the timeframe after our last bond, but I’m not finding anywhere that could be Ahch-To.”

Ahch-To. The mysterious Ahch-To. At this point, it had become so mythologized in his psyche that he was half expecting it to rain blue milk with streets paved with sweets or something.

He knew it was completely false, but he was starting to accept that this place might not even be real.

_You assume reasonable. If Skywalker’s hiding place was anywhere reasonable, wouldn’t you have found him before she did?_

He got the impression that the crystal would have rolled its eyes if it had had any.

_Try looking for the unreasonable, hm? The fantastical. The invisible and impossible. Perhaps you will find her there._

“If it’s invisible, how am I supposed to find it?” he asked, massaging his temples. “How do you find something that’s invisible on a nav chart.”

The crystal waited patiently while he teased out the answer on his own. He muttered frantically, but the stone offered no assistance.

After several moments, Ben sat up suddenly.

“Invisible. Impossible. Gravity pockets. I’m supposed to look for...places where large objects...should be? I can trace those. I don’t have any equipment, but...”

The crystal sighed exasperatedly. _By the Force, it is like pulling teeth with you. You could also use your not inconsiderable gifts with the Force to find them._

He sat back, the daunting nature of the task dawning on him. “If I fail, is there any alternative?”

_Hang out here in open space until you stumble across it. Or wait until the First Order picks you up. Whatever you prefer._

He growled a snippy response back at the crystal before spinning the chair away from the viewport.

There had been something refreshing about his first few days out in open space. Finding the place where the _Supremacy_ had once been, alone and free, gave him a glimpse of another life, one that could have been had he not been forced to follow his uncle’s path. That life that he had dreamt of on that rainy afternoon with Rey in the forest. Maybe he wouldn’t have been a pilot like his father, a brash, reckless smuggler; maybe he would have been a pilot like one of the ones hired to escort diplomats like his mother around, traveling around the galaxy on important missions, sometimes facing harrowing danger. Maybe he would have been a racer. Maybe he would have been a traveler. The opportunities presented themselves before him with the childhood gloss of promise.

He knew he wouldn’t find the reality of these imagined roles nearly as enticing were he to walk away from the First Order now. But once he had Rey, he could walk away from it all, and figure it out then.

_If_ he found her. If he made it through this alive. Thousands of “if’s.” None of these doubts would find her. Only he could. Only if he found Ahch-To.

He sighed, stepping away from the controls. His visit to the _Supremacy_ wreckage site was full of too many shattered souls to be useful in finding more threads of Rey that he could parse to pinpoint her location. If the debris of a once-mighty fortress felt this haunted, he could only imagine what the Hosnian system must have felt like.

He crossed his legs on the floor and sat half-lotus on the cold durasteel. He breathed in and out slowly, each exhale releasing some of his frantic thoughts out of his head and into the galaxy, where they might get lost amongst the stars.

With the space created in his mind, he felt for the gossamer thread of light that was Rey, finding only the ghostly echoes in the Force that felt like her. But he grasped onto it tightly. He had to feel for the open spaces between the stars. Slow and steady. Navigating the space between the silhouettes of her.

Piece by piece, hour by hour, he picked out a path towards an unknown part of the galaxy, a place he might never have looked, sleeping as much as he could manage, eating whatever rations he could find, and refueling only when it was absolutely necessary.

And that’s how he finally found Ahch-To. He knew it as soon as he locked the navigation system onto the unidentified planet.

It was as if Rey was curling her mind around his.

_Find me,_ her voice purred in his memory. _I’ve been waiting for you._

The island had called to him as well. It must have been where the bond had connected him. It felt like Rey, her song a symphony here. She had dreamt once of an island, and she had found this one. This one, where they had been brought together, was now the key to finding her again.

He stepped off the gangplank and into the predawn darkness. He left the mask and his gloves back on the ship; he let the wind and rain pummel his bare face. He had not felt rain since the day he had made love to Rey, the day he had left her behind. It did not feel as cleansing now; it was an accusation in each drop, cutting through to his bones.

With the Force and the storm churning around him, he carried the only emergency torch the shuttle had. He felt like he was being swallowed by the storm, his little light only carrying so far in the dark, swirling tempest. He could barely use the Force to navigate; there was so much noise in his mind that he couldn’t decipher where on the island to begin.

After a moment, two spots called out to him.

Up above him, there was a cliff, a mountain. He felt it radiating a serene energy. Wisdom. Understanding.

But in the darkness and the rain, he had no idea how to reach it.

There was another current behind him. It felt like hunger. It felt like terror and rage. It felt familiar.

It called to him louder. It wasn’t far away. It whispered and crooned to him in hushed tones, a dreadful and familiar song. His feet moved, hypnotized, over the drenched, moss-slicked stones. He couldn’t see what murmured nor where it was dragging him.

And then sound shocked him out of his stupor.

A scream.

His synapses lit up at the familiar cry.

Rey. _Rey._

He shined his light into the darkness. He could barely see his shaking hands in front of him, but he bolted towards the source of the sound over the uneven surface until the ground before him became flat and smooth. There was a sudden growth of some dark plant life ahead.

_“Rey!”_ he screamed. He froze, listening, feeling, but the Force was too chaotic, too loud in his mind. He didn’t know if this was real. A dream. He’d had so many of them, some telling him bitter truths, others feeding him sweet lies. He didn’t care anymore which was haunting him now. He heard her here.

She howled in agony; it was a sound that colored the edges of his vision red. He acted on instinct. He knew that sound, no matter how much he wished he didn’t. The scream echoed off the wet stone and reverberated in his teeth. He had to get to her.

The plants seemed to circle a hole in the rock. It was the nexus of the grim emotions he had felt earlier. He placed the torch on the ground, kneeling beside the opening in the rock.

“Rey?”

“B-Ben? Ben, is that you?” She sounded on the verge of tears.

He felt the roiling hate coming from the unfathomable darkness below him. But he knew Rey was there; he had followed her voice.

_You cannot do this, shadow boy,_ came a sharp, urgent little voice in his head. _There is nothing for you but pain in that pit.  
_

The crystal burned against his thigh where he had slid it in his pocket. He could hear Rey weeping in the cavern below.

_If you listen to nothing else that I have to say for the rest of either of our days, listen to me now: do_ **_not_ ** _follow that bait.  
_

He wanted to argue with the crystal. He had heeded its advice for weeks, but now he didn’t care to listen. It had brought him here. It told him what he needed to find was here, and he found her. He needed to follow her cries. He needed to find her. Even if it meant following the darkness; even if it meant bleeding the crystal. Whatever it took. He had come so far.

“Please,” she sobbed.

He didn’t think anymore. He just let himself fall over the edge, let the darkness and anger and fear swallow him up as he dove, not sure what would await him at the bottom.

The water broke around him. He felt himself sink, the nothingness curling around him, his cape weighing him down, but after a moment, he felt a pull upwards, and with a gasp, he surfaced, just as a memory did.

This was the cave that had called Rey. The cave of darkness that had given her powerful and tragic visions.

The cave that drew her to seek comfort from him.

That meant...

With heavy limbs he paddled over to a rock ledge and pulled himself out onto the surface. He brushed his hair back out of his eyes.

She wasn’t here. But he knew he wasn’t completely lost. There were still answers. And there was still this crystal.

_I heard my brother crying across the stars when you broke him in half.  
_

The icy voice was quiet, terrifyingly so. Gone was the light humor that had tinted its tone since the crystal cave. No more lies. No more games.

_Ah, but it cracked you too, didn't it, shadow boy? One more push and you'll shatter. You wouldn't try that again, no, not even you who has no sense in his head at all.  
_

It had always known his heart. It had known from the start what he had been trying to do to it. And it had brought him here, anyway. He should have known better, that he couldn’t hide his heart from this stone.

It had known all along. It knew he wanted to kill it to save Rey. Not even save her; buy time so he could...what? Brandish a sword, assert his power? It all seemed so pointless now. He was running out of time anyway. He’d wanted to disguise Ben Solo from the First Order. And now his disguise was inside out, and he wasn’t sure he could remove it, or what was even left of the man she loved underneath. 

He knew only that he would destroy everything for Rey. Even himself. The crystal saw this. 

_You won't bleed me like you did my brother, shadow boy._  
  
The anger that bubbled up from within him caused him to quake.

“That’s what you think,” he snapped.

_Are you willing to take that chance? What will be left when all is done, hm? What will be left for your song-mate to love?_  
  
“I don’t care what’s left of me,” he growled. “I just need her back. I need her safe.”

The little rock scoffed, a bitter sound. _So you would condemn her to lovelessness to free yourself from your guilt?  
_

He tried to block out the cloying sound in his mind, but he could feel the crystal tugging on his consciousness, demanding his attention.

_You do not have the strength to bleed again, Ben Solo. You are cracked._ It was more warning than admonition.

"There is still life in me to bleed,” he growled, tensed. He was ready for this fight. “There is plenty in you, too."

_Why are you making this so much harder for yourself, little shadow?_

He laughed bitterly. “Was any of this supposed to be easy? Was that ever your grand design?”  
  
He threw his arms out, as if the crystal could see him. “No, forget your design. You’re just scared. You’ve been controlling me for this long. Now I’m so close to everything I need and you’re afraid of losing control.”  
  
_And you aren’t afraid?  
_

“I’m here. I’m so close. What do I have to be afraid of now?” The edge of madness in his voice was harsh, even to his ears.

_Losing her. Losing yourself. Killing the man that she loved so dearly._

“She doesn’t need me,” he said, the words burning a hole in the heart he’d forgotten he had. “She doesn't have to love me anymore. I just need her alive! I can be an empty husk as long as she’s safe!"

_Would she agree with you? Do you truly believe that she does not love you as she did in the forest?_

He felt the words stinging harder than he expected.

“I ran. She was in danger, and I…” He cleared his throat. “She has no reason to love me.”

_Why?_

He paused. “I wasn’t there for her then. I lost her. As long as she’s safe now…” This words trailed off, but he took a deep breath, finishing his thought.

“As long as she’s safe, I don’t matter.”

The crystal went silent, its resonance quieting to a dull thrum.

_You...are right,_ it said.

There was no guile, no spite in its voice, just the cool ring of truth echoing in the empty cavern.

_You meant nothing to her. None of it matters. Only this matters._

It was impossible to ignore the throne that loomed before him, appearing suddenly in the darkness. Hard lines, brutal angles, austere black durasteel and stone. An emperor’s chair. A conqueror’s seat.

_Your throne, Supreme Leader,_ it murmured.

He rose to his feet and walked towards it. It was familiar, excruciatingly so.

“I...I don’t want that,” he murmured.

_It’s all yours. Claim what is yours by right, heir of Vader._

He shook his head. A mechanical rasping filled his ears. He was struggling to breathe. He felt dizzy.

“I just want her safe. I don’t want it.”

He realized, perhaps too late, that since he had dropped in the water, her cries had stopped. The feeling of being trapped clutched at his chest. He felt himself struggle to breathe.

_Nothing else matters now, dark one. Yours is the throne. Take what is yours._

_Dark one._ The title wasn’t lost on him. He hated it.

He pivoted sharply, turning his back to it. His panting was louder now, deep and rumbling.

“No.”

_It is yours, Kylo Ren. Take it._

“I don’t want it,” he closed his eyes, as if upon opening them again the bad dream, this horrible vision would be over. “I don’t want _this_.” His ragged breathing was so loud he could barely think.

_Take it.  
_

_Take it, Jedi killer.  
_

_Son of Darkness.  
_

_Child of no one.  
_

_Heir of Vader.  
_

_Kylo Ren. Take your throne._

_“_ Stop it!” He could reach into his pocket. He could remove the stone. He could dash it on the floor. Watch it shatter into stardust. End the sickening chant in his head. He could make this nightmare stop. He balled his hands into fists at his side.

_Take your throne, Kylo Ren._

_“THAT IS NOT MY NAME!”_  he roared.

His cry echoed, then there was silence.

His eyes snapped open.

The throne was gone. It was replaced by darkness, thick and heavy and demanding.

And in the distance, small and flickering, there was a light.

He took a step towards it. It grew, ever so slightly.

He took another step towards it. Another.

There were no voices now, comforting or mocking or coaching him. His breathing slowed and quieted. There was only his footsteps, and in the distance, rain.

The light grew larger still. He walked faster, confident now, sure in his steps.

A wide expanse of silvery substance stretched before him. Ice? Glass? Stone? He couldn’t quite name the wall ahead. But something pulsed behind it; a heartbeat of warmth in the unending cold of the cavern. He was drawn unstoppably toward it.

Perhaps there had always been a certain weakness in his heart, ever since he was small; he was so easily led by a firm hand. His parents had been too distant to see this, to guide him as he needed to be led. The Darkness, however, preyed on this. It had called to him and he had responded with blood and allegiance. Snoke had given him a new name and he had bent and broken himself for his new Master. Then, after years of shadows, the Light had sung its perfect song and he followed its beckoning call into the arms of a kind and strong and beautiful woman. Rey had said his true name and he had followed her embers to the ends of the universe to find her.

He could not deny his nature. He followed the master he wished to serve.

Ben Solo knew that love and home awaited him on the other side of that warm light. And he would follow it until his heart stopped and his lungs gave out. He would follow her unto eternity.

He reached out to the mirror wall with trembling fingers.

“Let me see her,” he begged. “Show me where she is.”

His fingertips touched the mirror, cold and unyielding.

“Please.”

The light dimmed, and after a moment, he saw a shadow on the other side of the mirror. It stepped slowly, cautiously towards him. It began to take shape, a human form. For a moment, the reflection seemed almost familiar.

_Rey. Safe,_ his heart sighed with relief. The silhouette reached out a hand towards his, pressing its fingers against the mirror.

He felt frozen, the moment suspended in time.

“Rey?” he whispered breathlessly. “Cyar’ika?”

The shade chuckled.

“No, little starfighter.”

The mirror cleared and the silhouette sharpened and solidified and stepped through the silvery plane, taking the shape of a man he had never met.

“You’ve gotten yourself into quite a fix, kid,” said Anakin Skywalker.

Ben’s heart sank. He felt his legs shake as he stepped back, away from the specter.

“No,” he gaped. “No, no, no.”

Anakin looked mildly offended. “What, suddenly after years of talking to my death-mask I’m _bantha poodoo_?”

“Where’s Rey? I wanted to see her. I was supposed to see _her._ ”

His grandfather shrugged, a casual, almost flippant gesture. “Says who? Did you make a deal with someone to see your lady-love again? You trusted a talking rock, didn’t you?”

Ben sputtered.

“I...I thought I’d see her here. I was told the Force would show me...”

Anakin strolled easily around him, another shrug bunching his shoulders. “Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but she’s not here. Hasn’t been in months and months.”

“Do you know where she is?” Ben wished he could grab this phantom, wring the truth out of it. He hadn’t been happy to see Anakin in his dream the first time. This was somehow even less welcome. “Please, I’ve come all this way…”

The ghost whirled on him, a cutting look in his blue eyes.

“What, is that supposed to matter? ‘I’ve come all this way,’ like you wouldn’t go to the ends of the known galaxy to find her again.” He scoffed. “You think you’ve suffered? You think this is all the pain you can bear? After everything that she did for you?”

Ben sank to his knees.

“ _I don’t care about me!”_ he shouted, his hollow voice echoing off the cave. “I don’t care how much it hurts. I don’t care if she doesn’t want me after all this.”

"Stop lying, Ben Solo. Tell me your heart."

Ben shuddered, the cold of wet stone seeping into his bones, his blood. "I don't have one."

"Would she agree with you?"

He scraped his hands through his scalp, unable to face the blue apparition in front of him. “I don’t matter. I need her to be safe. I need to know she’ll be alright, even if I never see her again. I just...I don’t know how to find her. I’m out of time.”

“She ran out of time, too,” Anakin said, a bitter edge to his voice. “And look what she did to save _you_.”

A memory seared through his mind. 

_“Run,” she whispered through unmoving lips, barely a sound, and she fell hard to her knees._

_“No!” Ben shouted. “No, I can’t leave you!”_

_Her eyes shone, swimming with unshed tears as she looked back up at him. Someone wrenched her arms from behind her head and she winced._

_“What can I do? Rey, sweetheart, please. Tell me what to do.” His shaking fingers found her face again as he tried to keep her eyes on his._

_Invisible hands pulled her arms straight back, as if to put binders on her._

_“GO!” she screamed._

The memory broke, and Anakin’s ghostly countenance hovered close to Ben.

“You may not care what happens to you, Ben, but she did,” Anakin whispered gently. “She wanted you to be safe. Above all things, she wanted _your_ safety and guarded it fiercely. You dishonor her to push that love away again. _”_

Ben peered up at the ghost through bleary eyes. He let the words wash over him.

“I won’t push her away,” he whispered. “If I find her, I’ll...I’ll never let her go. I just...I don’t know how she could love me after what I did. And now I’m failing to get her back. I don’t know what there is of me to love, if I ever find her again.”  
  
He met Anakin’s gaze hopefully.

“Do you know…?”

Anakin cut him off with a curt hand and a sad, kind smile.

“Kid, I wish I could tell you more, but I’m dead, not all-knowing.”

He laid an incorporeal hand on the younger man’s broad shoulder.

“The Force is...a current. Always shifting, ever-changing. The future is always in motion. The visions that we are shown are only flickers of an infinite number of possibilities. So even though I’m one with the Force...I can’t tell you for sure what is going to happen to her. Or to you.”

The ghost paused, his brow furrowing with a weight that Ben couldn’t imagine.

“I learned this lesson the hard way. Don’t make the same mistake I did by thinking that the future is already set.”

Ben thought he felt a squeeze from the hand on his shoulder.

“Just...don’t give up hope, Ben,” Anakin said gently. “She’s a tough one, it’ll take a lot to break her.”

“So she’s still alive?”

Anakin nodded. “I hate to say it, but you’d know if she wasn’t, even without the bond.”

Ben couldn’t fight the tears of exhaustion and relief that flooded his eyes.

“That’s...that’s good news, at least.”

The ghost sank down to his level, a concerned look on his handsome face.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, little starfighter,” he murmured. “She’s too good for all of the pain she has endured.”

For a moment the guilt washed over Ben, the thought of what he’d done to her, after what she had suffered causing his throat to tighten.

But then a dark thought crossed his mind: something worse might have happened to her. Something horrible was happening to her still.

“What’s happening to her, Grandfather?” Ben asked quietly, tilting his face to glance at the other man. Ben had beseeched his grandfather before many times as a form of meditation, but now he held no warped deathmask in his hands, bore no ill in his heart. He sought only the comfort of the older man’s wisdom, if any comfort could be found.

Anakin sighed, a bone-weary sound. He closed his eyes, shook his head.

“I couldn’t say, even if I wanted to,” he muttered. “The Force is silent around her shape.”

"But you _know_ she's suffering?"

The answering nod was slow and solemn.

Ben found his breathing became harsher.

"How...how could I have failed her for this long?"

“That’s actually a really good question, kid.”

Ice blue eyes bit into Ben’s face. “What has been stopping you from razing that throne of yours to the ground?”

It was a question Ben himself had pondered many times, but the answer had never changed.

"I couldn't feel her, so I didn’t know how to find her. I thought the First Order intelligence might find her instead, find anything that could lead me to her..." His vision grew foggy. His nails bit into his scalp as he tugged at his hair.

"Nothing. I have nothing to show for every day she's been suffering."

_Just scratches on the wall,_ he thought. _And that stupid crystal._

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Ben froze. Right back where he started. The desolate indecision that had plagued him for so long on the _Absolution_ returned. Eventually, he spoke.

"I...I don't know."

Anakin took a deep breath, his robes shifting a bit on the stone floor.

“Well, the way I see it, you have two options. The first is that you do nothing. Sit there alone in your fortress and rule your galaxy. Let your pain consume you until there’s nothing left of Ben Solo for her to find even if she ever did get out.”

The ghost shrugged. “Honestly, it’s the easier route.”

Ben let out a growl of dismay. It might as well have been what he'd been doing. Anakin, however, was kind enough to leave out his officers’ obvious desire to dethrone him, so this plan of inaction wouldn't last very long, anyway.

"Or?" Ben pressed.

The corner of Anakin’s mouth quirked up.

“Or you fight for her. You find her. No matter what it takes or how long you have to look. You have everything you need to do it. You just have to take that step.”

"I need to escape the First Order."

Anakin peered at the gloom around them.

“I mean, I don’t see any Stormtroopers here, do you?”

Ben sat back up, kneeling and gazing around the cave.

“The First Order hasn’t been able to reach me for weeks.” Ben was more proud of that particular feat of slicing than was appropriate to display at that moment.

He continued. “I know it’s not much, but I could probably sell the shuttle for some credits, enough to get me started. There are some other crew suits in the back of the shuttle. I could wear one, so they wouldn’t have to know who I was. There’s a few blasters, I’d have some protection...”  
  
Just as it had when he was first traveling alone in space, his childhood fantasies of being a pilot met with the friction of reality. But this time, he embraced the friction.

“I could do it.”

Anakin’s smile became a full-blown grin.

“Now that’s a plan,” he said, mischief in his eye. “Definitely the kind of crazy that got me out of enough scrapes when I was about your age.”

Then his face turned serious again.

“What about that voice in your pocket, then?”

Ben fished it out. "I'm not sure it's too happy with me."

The stone hummed in his palm.

_You are a foolish shadow and rude...but I knew what I was doing when I chose you._

"You brought me out all this way, huh?" Ben murmured. He glanced up at his grandfather's spirit. "You were in this together, I assume?"

That shrug again.

“It’s hard to ignore a kyber tuned to one of your only living relatives. Besides, that little crystal is persuasive as anything.”

Ben looked back at the crystal. "So you knew that I would ignore you and go leaping into the darkness anyway?" he asked.

_You are nothing if not predictable, little shadow,_ it chirped, though not unkindly.

"And what did you want me to do?" he asked softly. "Why did you two bring me _here_?"

Anakin’s gaze gentled.

“You know you never needed another lightsaber, right?

The crystal glimmered in the low, watery light.

_You were right before, in the forest. There is some pain that cannot be used, Ben Solo. So it must be discarded._

He chuckled dryly.

"So...you bled _me_ , then. Let me release all the pain...all that darkness...until..."

_Until there was nothing left but the Force and your own soul. The wound needed to be cleaned before it could heal properly. Now you are ready to heal._

He snorted. "It's only going to hurt more from here, I take it?"

"It's pain worth having; you know it in your heart," Anakin said, pointing deliberately at Ben's chest. "The one that's still in there."

The crystal’s glow seemed to intensify minutely. A soothing warmth radiated from its facets.

_I saw your heart the moment you entered my cave, little one. I saw your pain, your conflict. And I saw your love. So fierce and deep-rooted. And so bruised._

It thrummed against the calluses in his palm.

_Do not be afraid, Ben. You will see her again. You will hold her in your arms again._

He reflexively met its comforting words with doubt, doubt that had been planted in his heart from years of loneliness and shattered hopes and grew until it choked out the sunlight, but the crystal resisted his despair.

“I know you don’t need permission, least of all from me, but...you’re allowed to have this,” Anakin said kindly.

He reached a blue hand toward his grandson’s shoulder.

“At some point, Ben, you’re going to have to stop believing that you are unlovable.”

Ben jolted at the words, his gaze locked on Anakin. The overgrowth of doubt cleared.

"Rey said that," he murmured, the memory of a morning in the cabin on Takodana flooding back. "Because I hurt her, and I thought I didn't deserve her kindness."

Anakin smiled. “She’s wise for one so young. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Where fear had been, Ben felt the warmth of Rey's light, her memory. It filled the cave, as if she were standing in front of him, corporeal.

He chuckled.

"You're not going to know what hit you, old man."

Anakin grinned and unfolded himself from the ground, turning back toward the mirror wall.

“You can’t stay here, Ben,” he said after a moment, his voice firm yet kind. “This is no place for the living or the Light. You deserve better than a cold hole to waste away in.”

He watched the ghost drift away from him for a few seconds before the urgency dawned on him.

“Wait, Anakin!” he called, the name strange on his lips.

The ghost turned back with an inquisitive look. “Yeah?”

Ben swallowed thickly.

“The Light...will it be easier to follow now?” he whispered.

His grandfather smiled sadly.

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, little starfighter.” Anakin shot another look over his shoulder before turning away.

Ben sighed. Not quite the answer he was hoping for, but he expected nothing less from a Skywalker.

One of the Ahch-To suns had risen high enough to send beams of watery light through the entrance at the top of the cavern, and as he crossed into a ray of sunlight, Anakin Skywalker vanished, leaving Ben alone once more in the scattering grey of sunrise.

 

The sound of ocean waves breaking against a cliff greeted Ben as he emerged from a side entrance of the cave. The sea was still dark in the first dawn light, but the lingering grey storm clouds were dispersing in the morning sun.

Making his way over the slick rocks back towards his shuttle, Ben turned the crystal over again in his palm.

“So,” he began. “You sought me out. You brought me here to bleed me. Make me see the light through pain.”  
  
He turned his face towards where the sun broke over the horizon. “I’d say this is mission accomplished.”

The crystal seemed to catch a bit of the light.

_My role has been played. And rather efficaciously, if I may say.  
_

“But what are we to do with you now?” Ben asked softly. “As Anakin said, I don’t need another lightsaber, especially if I’m going to track down Rey. So what do I do with you?”

The kyber hummed musically between his fingers. _This island...it is luminous...beautiful and old and wise. There are certainly worse resting places, no?_

"I was thinking the exact same thing."

Ben hiked higher and higher up the sloping terrain towards the other point in the Force that had called to him when he had first landed, until he found a long set of worn stone steps. They shimmered faintly as he approached, but it wasn't from the sun's light glancing off the wet rock. The luminescence almost seemed to have shape. Footprints. He was following her steps, walking where she walked. He smiled a bit and let her memory lead him up.

Climbing the steps up the mountain and through carved stone passageways, he found himself in a small room in the stone, an ancient temple of some sort. In the center of the floor, there was a small pool over a stone symbol, a design he vaguely recognized as an ancient Jedi design, and an opening in the cliff that had a sweeping view of the whole island, glowing and alive in the sunlight. The temple held traces of her as well, sparks and wisps of light that were undeniably Rey. The room seemed to be filled with her. 

"Here?" he asked the jagged little stone.

A crystalline trill of approval echoed in the chamber. The little stone glowed like warm starlight in his hand.

_You have given me a room with a view,_ the jewel whispered, something like soft awe coloring its voice. _This is...it is a kindness that I did not expect...after the pain that I caused you, little shadow._

He grinned.

"I don't think pain for pain is such a fair price after all. I've had too much of it. I've created even more."

_It's time to let old things die,_ his own voice boomed in his memory.

He thought he could hear a smile in the crystal’s voice.

_Perhaps there is some sense in that head of yours after all, shadow boy,_ it chirped.

"Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment," Ben said.

He strolled out onto the ledge overlooking the island. The Force sent him sparks of sensation. A battle. Crait. Luke.

He pushed away the emotions, of frustration and anger and failure, that rose up in his chest, and focused instead on the task at hand. As he did, other images flickered into his mind.

Joy. Life. Discovery. _Rey._  
  
This spot would be perfect.

He placed the crystal down on top of a larger, rectangular stone.

The kyber seemed to sigh, a sound of relief and serenity. 

_Thank you._

The light of first dawn shimmered off its facets. But then something deeper, brighter, began to glow within its core. 

Color. Rich and intense and...green. Green as new leaves. Green as a forest in the rain. Green as the hidden garden in his lover’s soul.  
  
The haunting memory of his uncle’s green blade waking him faded at the sight of this new crystal, one he had given a new life to. One of the many verdant things he would have to one day show Rey, once they were reunited again. Once he kept his promises.

_Ben Solo..._ it sang in a voice that resonated in the marrow of his bones. _The Force will be with you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know it's just not canonverse unless Ben returns to Ahch-To and experiences rebirth by climbing through the Womb of Darkness.
> 
> Don't tell me that's not the name, that's absolutely the name. 
> 
> Also, since you all fell in love with Clippy the Crystal, [@DarthMaullie](https://twitter.com/DarthMaullie) took it upon herself to draw it.
> 
> We're not worthy.  
> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Rey?” he ventured, his voice little more than a whisper. “Rey, are you there?”
> 
> The galaxy seemed to hold still in silent anticipation until a familiar voice flooded his mind.
> 
> ...Ben?

 

Conceal me what I am, and be my aid

For such disguise as haply shall become

The form of my intent.

          Twelfth Night, or What You Will, I.II.50-52

* * *

 

Anakin had said that nothing was stopping Ben from racing through the galaxy in search of Rey, and now the reality of this new future was beginning to feel tangible. Comfortable, even. Ben could track down where the Resistance was keeping Rey without the First Order’s meager intelligence. And if the Force wouldn’t help him, then he’d buy and trade and even steal information if he had to in order to find her. He’d find the nearest smuggler outpost, trade his shuttle for whatever credits he could, maybe sell it for parts, and get his own craft, something unmarked and nondescript. He’d get work where he could find it, trust the Force, and just fly.

Perhaps the only thing stopping him from running off and seeking Rey at that very moment was the strange, fragile peace curling like a sleeping lothcat in his core. He hadn’t felt this content since he had been with Rey on Takodana, and even then, there was always the fear, always the possibility of being discovered. But now he could nurture that peace. He wasn’t running back to the First Order. He was finding Rey again, devoting his life to the search. Time was no longer bearing down on him; he would use as much of it as it took.

But for now, he wanted to rest.

Maybe the First Order would track him down for deserting. Maybe they’d be so pleased to have him gone they’d just pretend he’d died again. For now, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He shook off the thoughts of black-suited officers and pasty-faced generals like water off a pelikki’s back.

He strolled towards the shuttle where it was nestled in an outcropping. The sky was shifting from tarnished silver to pale gold as the second sun prepared for its own dawn.

Walking to the edge of the outcropping, he looked out over the dawn-limned sea. He took a deep breath in, smelling the salt-tinged air, feeling the cool wind against his cheeks. He cast his gaze over the ocean, dark and vast. For a moment, he cleared his mind and imagined he was viewing it with Rey’s eyes, seeing an ocean and feeling rain for the first time after knowing nothing but sand and sun and heat.

The ocean was beautiful in the morning light. Through Rey, it was nothing short of miraculous.

Ben lowered himself to the ground, feeling the breeze off the ocean cutting through his still-damp clothing. He unclasped the heavy, wet cape from his recently unburdened shoulders and set it aside. He let his eyes fall shut as he settled in at the edge of this mysterious, wonderful island at the end of the universe.

He felt the Force, still powerful and active around him, but it no longer felt agitated. He felt once more as if he were part of this, as if the energy embraced him. And he embraced it in return.

He took slow, steady breaths, and reached out into the Force, feeling how it flowed through the air above him, the ground below him, the life forms around him...

Life forms that were drawing close behind him. Too close.

His eyes snapped open and he jerked around to discover that several of these predators, chubby, big-eyed avians, had decided to nest in his discarded cape.

He turned his head to face them, and they froze in place, their liquid black eyes guileless as they assessed him. Ben and the creatures just stared at each other for a moment before the smallest one among them boldly took a step towards their large visitor. Then a few more waddling steps.

Ben extended a hand towards it.

Before he knew it, he was holding the little bird while it sniffed and nibbled curiously at his fingers.

“I don’t have any food for you, I’m afraid,” Ben crooned at it. “And I certainly hope that I’m not food to you.”

It squawked, summoning its friends closer. They began to bump into Ben’s folded legs and climb clumsily onto his lap. One let out a chirp of victory as it reached the summit of his knee.

“I guess I’m trapped here for the moment.” He couldn’t help but grin a little at the awkward creatures.

“You better not let the rest of the galaxy know I’m being nice, okay? I have a reputation to uphold. At least until I get Rey back. Then you can start telling everyone.” He chuckled to himself. “In fact, tell her. She’d never believe you.”

The squat birds chose to ignore this and continued to explore their new talking mountain. Carefully, unwilling to disturb his tiny hosts in their antics, Ben shifted, assuming a new meditative pose.

He didn’t have the crystal anymore. He was on his own. His only guidance now was the raw Force and whatever shimmersilk threads of it still bound him to Rey or the invisible space in the Force where she once was.

He breathed deeply, picking his way carefully through the stars. With each thread he plucked, he felt the utter silence like a wound reopened over and over. How had she endured this for two hundred days? He felt each filament slip delicately through his fingers before he reached every frayed, snarled end. He could barely stomach the destruction that had been wrought on their bond, jagged cuts and tears made by his selfishness and fear and cowardice.

Maybe, he thought, he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he would be better off tracking her down once he had his equipment straightened out.

But this island was a powerful nexus of Force energy. It had been where the bond had connected Rey to him that first time; he didn’t want to believe that Snoke was entirely responsible for the connection, either, and if it could connect them before…

Ben shifted his hands to rest on his knees, the birds chirping irritably, and began to delve more deeply into the Force. The failure of the past months seemed to drift away; the nights he had reached for her and felt only oppressive silence felt as if they were from another lifetime as he felt for Rey with a renewed vigor.

He breathed in and out, casting out his awareness as a net now through all corners of the galaxy, his strength anchored on this island. He felt his mind curling around whole systems, tendrils in the Force seeking for her familiar impression. Seeking its home.

And then, at once, just at the edge of his consciousness, he felt something. A crystalline ringing in the Force, echoing in his mind.

He shook his head to scatter the sound, dropping back into his body and the distressed cries of several of the birds he had disturbed.

He scratched one on its broad head, trying to calm it as his heart raced.

_What was that?_

He took a few deep, steadying breaths, trying to dissipate the vibration thrumming in his ears. He had never felt anything when he had reached out before, and it was a shock to his system. Could it be…?

He shuddered, shaking out the anticipation that clung to his nerves, and settled back again into his meditative pose.

As soon as his breathing evened out, he raced out again into the vast galaxy, listening for that ringing sound. He swept around stars and systems, darting between voids and nebulae.

And then…

This time he was braced for it, the clear ringing.

He realized why he had felt so stunned as he let himself get pulled in by the sound; it was followed by a familiar hum and a breathless silence.

His mind almost shattered from the familiarity as it connected with Rey’s.

His heart hammered again. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a trick.

And yet he had entered this space in the Force without trying…

“Rey?” he ventured, his voice little more than a whisper. “Rey, are you there?”

The galaxy seemed to hold still in silent anticipation until a familiar voice flooded his mind.

_...Ben?_

He was instantly buffeted with a torrent of emotions in rapid succession, both his and Rey’s. Relief. Joy. Disbelief. Longing. Heartbreak. Regret. Agony.

Fear.

_No._

She felt...terrified. Panic rocketed in the filaments between them, making the bond sear painfully.

 _No...no no no…_ she whimpered.

“Rey?” He shuddered in relief. Her voice. It was real. It was back in his mind. But it was tainted. Fear. So much fear.

“Please. It’s me. I’m here.”

He had kept his eyes closed for so long, afraid of breaking the connection. Now they snapped open, desperate for a glimpse of Rey.

He saw only the sea in the morning light.

He couldn’t see her _before him, but he could hear her breathing fast and heavy, struggling for control._

_This can't...this can't b-be happening...please, I can't...I can't..._

"Rey, I'm here," he whispered, as soothing as he could manage with his heart threatening to burst. "Don't be afraid. It's alright."

He felt his voice tightening as tears stung his eyes. Was she preventing him from seeing her? Was she trying to sever the bond?

_I—I can't do this._

The Force flashed out erratically toward an unseen target on her side of the connection. Her awareness shifted abruptly and anxiety seethed in her nerve-endings. He could hear her sobbing, the sound hideously clear over the noise of waves on the rocks below.

"Rey, please," he begged into the Force. "I've missed you so much. Come back to me."

He took a big gulp of air. He felt as if he were drowning in the sea surrounding the island.

"Come back."

 _Please,_ she pleaded, to him or to another; he couldn’t tell. _Help me. I can’t d-do this. I can’t let him...can’t let him see me..._

He felt her resisting the bond, fighting back against it, as he had once done before severing it completely.

His stomach sank _. No._

"Rey, please, it's me. It's just me. It's Ben, your Ben," the words raced out. "You don't have to be afraid. I’m here. You can do this, I'll help you."

 _Put them back, put them back,_ she hiccupped.

The anxiety in her mind was giving way to despair and wretched, hideous guilt. He wondered if the tears he felt streaming down his cheeks were hers or his.

_Please, put them back...I can’t...help me...I can’t bear it._

Something in the Force clicked and her sobs became wails as she seemed to get impossibly further and further away.

"Rey?" he shouted out over the cliff, his tether to reality straining at his desperation.

He had come so close. He couldn't lose her. His words were frantic, desperate.

"Stay with me, Rey, please. Tell me where you are. I'll come find you, Rey. I'll come back. Please, cyar'ika."

He felt her flickering out like a sputtering candle.

" _Rey?"_ he called, his voice a roar across the empty island.

With a final, distant tug of fear and relief from Rey's mind, he felt the bond shutter.

Once more, Ben Solo was left alone.

Ben howled and raged for what felt like hours, crying the name of his love over the island, into the Force, into the silence where he had just felt her.

She did not return, and he could not feel her again; she was lost to the unknowable vastness of the galaxy.

She had been there, he knew, on the other side of their bond. But she had not wanted him.

She had been afraid of him.

Of _him._

Everything he had done to try to find her, to rid himself of darkness, to be better, kinder, braver...it was for nothing.

After all this time apart, she did not want him. She was broken, sobbing on the other side of the bond, desperately afraid of seeing him.

Of all she had apparently suffered, she could imagine no worse fate than him. And he couldn’t live with this knowledge.

The squat birds had long since scattered from Ben's lap when he finally turned towards the shuttle, picking up his discarded cape and restoring it across his broad shoulders.

Any plans he'd made earlier in the morning evaporated like fog in the harsh light of the twin suns.

Ben knew what his course had to be.

The First Order still needed their Supreme Leader.

He would go only where he was wanted.

  

The shuttle touched down in the _Absolution_ ’s landing bay to great fanfare. The officers had likely swarmed to greet the Supreme Leader the minute his landing codes had been validated on the communications deck. Whether they actually had expected him to return to the First Order wasn’t made clear by their too-warm welcome, but Ben could feel the surprise rolling off some of them.

Still, they welcomed their Supreme Leader back as a hero, disregarding the desertion of his ‘troopers, his surprise disappearance. His celebration was only mere hours away, after all, and they had to get into the spirit. General Hux had commanded it.

For Ben, it was a blur. Fittings with a frantic tailor, a visit to the large reception hall that had been chosen for the evening, a very curt reminder of proper protocol for these sorts of events.

For hours after his arrival, the Supreme Leader was never left alone, and for that, he was almost grateful.

He had put his mask back on while navigating back to the _Absolution_ from Ahch-To. Rey’s cries echoed in his mind, grating against the cold stone of his heart.

_Help me._

_I can’t d-do this._

_I can’t let him...can’t let him see me..._

It was too easy to school his face into indifference. What was one more mask?

Once his rage had passed and his face had turned from lava-red back to its ghostly pallor, Hux expressed something like delight to have the Supreme Leader return in time for the celebration.

Ben had not responded in rage to Hux’s ranting but had remained collected, radiating an almost terrifying calm.

The only time he had almost broken his character was when Hux asked, “And where is this blade you were so desperate to forge that you would leave the flagship for weeks without contact?”

Ben had stormed right past him as if the barb hadn’t landed as soundly as it did. There was no lie convincing enough, and he hardly deemed Hux worthy of one.

He was playing a role. Wearing a mask.

If Rey was going to fear him after everything, he would pretend to be everything she hated.

It made being Supreme Leader much easier.

But Ben Solo, clad in a gloomy black cloak and tunic, was still mourning yet another future taken from him, another hope dashed.

Ben Solo had crawled out from the Darkness into the Light and was not prepared to recede into the shadows once more. Instead, he wore a costume of the Dark Lord that hid his fragile heart. Armor in which he could heal.

This, too, would take time, but he had his largest performance yet just ahead of him.

Once everything had been settled with the ball and a few mining operations in the Ileenium system had been approved, he was urged to return to his chambers to rest for the gala.

To think solitude had ever been mercy.

He was tired, certainly, as he had flown straight to the _Absolution_ from Ahch-To with no time for rest. But as he stripped himself down for bed, the tallies on the corner of the room caught his eye.

He knew exactly how many days he had been gone. He knew exactly where he had stowed Rey’s staff.

He had found her. His vigil had ended.

He would never again scratch a mark on that wall.

 

Tablets had forced Ben’s mind to shut off long enough to sleep. Frantic young lieutenants had woken him up. He had dismissed them soundly, before remembering what was so urgent that three of them had been sent to wake him.

Except for his new suit, it was just like getting ready for any other day.

His suit was delivered to him by a droid soon after he had finished what could be charitably called his breakfast. With his journey taking its many unexpected twists and turns, he’d forgotten that he was supposed to be dreading this day. He had returned rather late the previous evening, and it was early afternoon before his officers had seen fit to disturb him to get him ready for the gala. Despite this late hour, he maintained his normal morning routine.

He considered remaining in his quarters for some light exercise but decided that he’d rested long enough. Without thinking, he grabbed the staff, Rey’s staff, and took it with him to a training room.

At this time of day, and on this particular day when all of the _Absolution_ ’s crew were running about hastily making final preparations for the gala, the training room Ben preferred was empty.

He began, as he always did, by running through various forms. When he’d had his saber, he’d used it, but he had his own forms for working with the staff. He tried not to ruminate on the weapon, who it belonged to, why she hated him; he couldn't bear to break his focus and have to restart.

He restarted about six times before he abandoned his forms.

He needed more. He needed to feel a blow connect with something more than air. He wanted each strike to reverberate up his arms. He wanted the sting of a punch well-placed and the creak of teeth clenched too tight and the rush of moving blood and straining muscle.

In the corner of the room, there was a workout bag affixed to a pedestal, mainly used by ‘troopers practicing hand-to-hand combat. He dragged it to the center of the room.

He pointed the end of the staff at it, and stared down the length of the weapon, focusing.

And then he let go.

He found fighting with the staff surprisingly comfortable, even though he hadn’t had more than a few months of practice with it. He enjoyed how easy it was for him to produce quick strikes from each end as he whirled it. Faster, faster.

The cloth strips kept it from biting into his hands. _Faster._

He remembered the first time he’d held the staff. The cabin. Rey.

_"You've never really been on the receiving end of this old thing."_

_"No, but we've played in each other's minds enough. I saw it a long time ago. It's very special to you, right? This was your only defense. Back before you had rainstorms."_

He snarled and pummeled the bag with more force than he had used earlier, sending it sliding back across the floor.

He didn’t want to think about her.

Hated thinking about her.

It...hurt too much.

Ben panted, letting his arms rest as he looked at the bag again.

It _hurt_ to think about her. He was feeling pain now. He felt sorrow. Broken-heartedness.

These feelings were, by their nature, Dark, but they weren’t tainted with Darkness.

These were raw emotions. Human emotions, tragic and pained, things Ben had not let himself feel in a long time.

He missed her. She had dashed his tender heart once again, just as she had when she’d rejected him on the _Supremacy,_ shut the bond on him on Crait…

He had lashed out in anger, and in sorrow before. Destroyed machinery all across the First Order fleet in fits of rage.

But when it came to Rey, after Canto Bight, he had tried to cut her out of his life rather than feel this pain.

He didn’t shy away from it now.

With a howl, he launched another assault onto the unsuspecting training bag, each blow harder than the last. He leaped about wildly, growling and snarling as he unleashed blow after blow, his eyes burned with his tears.

Force, did it feel good to hit something. He imagined that it was a face taking each hit, one made of metal and chrome and misery. He made Kylo Ren take every last ounce of Ben Solo’s wrath.

_You did this. You pushed her away. You’re the monster. You are the one she couldn’t love. This is your fault. Your fault._

_This is your fault, Kylo Ren._

With a final howl, he hit the bag with a final slash that sent stuffing flying about the training room.

He was panting, sobbing, his chest and shoulders heaving with the exertion. He let the staff fall from his raw fingers. His back hit the nearest wall and he slid down it with a groan.

It was what he had been taught: _Turn your pain into anger. Turn your rage into power. You will be unstoppable._

But this is why he had been so weak, so unable to handle the separation from Rey: this pain of loneliness had never been bearable for him, not since childhood, when his parents thought droids were adequate substitutes for their company. Not once he knew what it felt like to be loved selflessly, unconditionally. And now this loneliness would never end.

He was back where he started, back to when he returned to the _Absolution_ , with the silence in the bond a haze over everything.

The pain was blistering, and it served only to destroy him. There was no hope now, no chance of relief.

His mind was quiet for a brief moment before a garbled, mechanical voice buzzed in his ear.

_For once, this is not a tragedy you can blame on me, Ben Solo._

He knew that the voice was right. And he hated himself for it.

Ben buried his face in his knees and waited for the echo of Kylo Ren, his Darkness made manifest, his mask, his only true companion, to leave his mind.

 

As much as he hated to face himself after his workout, once he stepped out of the ‘fresher, he was compelled to assess his reflection in the mirror. He leaned forward to peer at himself through the foggy surface.

Nerf shit again. He quickly ran an electric razor over his face to clear the coarse black stubble that covered his upper lip and chin.

The task completed, he looked at himself again. He still found his reflection disagreeable.

He kneaded his cheeks with his knuckles, trying to ply his mournful expression into the Supreme Leader’s cool indifference. He saw little success; his lips were still frozen as if they were about to quiver, the whimper, betraying him to the galaxy. He celebrated the small victory that at least half of his face would be covered, anyway.

He ran a comb through his hair to remove the snarls and then swept his wild locks into place with his hand. The long, damp curls fell in a style that was far from perfect, but well above adequate. He tried not to think of Rey’s delicate but strong fingers carding through it in the rain. That was another lifetime. He needed to let it go.

He did not think too much about the suit that had been made for that evening until he was finishing with the silver buttons along the breast.

The jacket was slightly longer than he normally favored, the asymmetrical hem hitting around mid-thigh. The trousers were slim-cut, the new boots shone like glass. Everything was tailored to fit him with razor precision. It should have felt like a second skin. He could feel every fiber that brushed his flesh, every seam where it pressed into him, every inch of this elegant disguise.

It conformed perfectly to his body. But this was not Ben Solo’s body tonight.

He reached for his gloves and caught his reflection in the mirror. He was surprisingly calm as he met the gaze of the face peering behind his shoulder.

Anakin Skywalker’s expression was carefully neutral as he stared back at his grandson. The ghost cast a critical look down the length of him. Anakin’s face was blank, but Ben could see the heaviness hiding behind the ghost’s eyes.

"I didn't expect to see you back here, little starfighter," Anakin said quietly.

Ben worried the black leather between his fingers before slipping the gloves onto his hands.

"There's a ball in my honor. My people want to see me alive and well. I'm here to oblige." His tone was even, emotionless.

"Why did you come back to the First Order, Ben? I thought you chose option two."

"There is no other option. Not anymore."

"When I saw you, you had already planned out how you were going to find Rey. Sell the shuttle, seek her out. Beg, barter, and steal to get her back. What happened?"

"I found her."

Anakin’s eyebrows drew together incredulously.

"And you came running back here?"

Ben shrugged. "She didn't want me."

"Impossible. You know how she feels about you."

"Felt. She doesn't love me anymore."

"Why are you so determined to convince yourself that she doesn't want you?"

"Because I heard her for myself!” he shouted, pain suffusing his voice with a rasp that bordered on tears. “The bond connected on Ahch-To, and as soon as she felt that I was in her mind she couldn't shut it fast enough. She was...terrified. Of me."

Anakin’s gaze saddened. "You can't believe that."

Ben grimaced, shaking his head stubbornly.

"You think I can’t figure it out when she wants me gone? I could feel everything she felt. Should I just throw away my life chasing after her, kidnapping her like the monster she knows I am?"

“You’re the only one determined to believe that you’re a monster,” Anakin said coolly. “She risked her life for you, Ben, for the Light she saw in you, for the future she wanted with you. And you jumped blindly into a dark hole in a strange island because you heard her crying your name. Why would you throw that all away?”

“I won’t force myself on her, and I'm not going to...what? Snatch her away in the night? Make her my prisoner?”

He grabbed his muzzle of a mask up from the table it rested on. The metal was heavy in his hand, the final piece of his costume, the stone door to Ben Solo’s prison cell.

“She doesn’t want me. And I can’t build a life with her if she’s terrified of me. I can’t escape this Darkness, no matter how much I fight it, and she won’t let me forget it.”

“Then why are you letting them make you into what you hate so much? Look at yourself.”

The ghost stepped out of Ben’s line of vision, clearing the mirror before him. The dark-eyed man that stared back at him was a familiar stranger, an effigy that wore his face. He had known this shade’s name once, had reveled in its harsh edges and deep shadows. He could not speak the name now. This would be the last time that he was Kylo Ren. It was time to let him go. 

The shadow boy in the mirror looked down at the mask in his hands.

“Is this you, Ben Solo?” came the quiet voice of his grandfather beside him.

"You know who I am, Anakin. You know a lot about wearing masks," Ben said, lifting his. "It's just a ball. It's just a job. It's just another mask. Maybe one day she'll come back to me. Maybe she'll want me, masks and all."

The specter sighed wearily, suddenly seeming decades older than his appearance would suggest. “If that’s what you have to do to survive, it’s a good disguise. What I care about is the man beneath it.”

All of the energy seemed to escape his muscles and Ben sat heavily on a nearby ledge.

“Ben...do you know who you are?”

He considered the muzzle in the light, noting the way the chrome detailing shone slightly, anything to avoid Anakin's steely gaze.

"I'm not the man I was before I left to find my crystal. And I don't want to be who I was before that, either.”

He sighed, then slid the mask up to his cheeks, securing the catches behind his jaw.

“I know what I have to do,” his mechanical voice boomed, yet there was resignation in his words.

Anakin nodded, then spoke slowly, gravely. “Just don’t lose yourself, Ben. Use this suit as armor to protect the tender heart I know lives in you. One day, you will need it again. Perhaps sooner than you think. But don’t _lose_ it. Don’t let it slip back into Darkness. You’ve worked too hard to find yourself again. Don’t give up. You’ll find what else you’ve lost.”

The two men considered each other for a moment, but then Anakin brought his mismatched hands to either side of Ben’s head, and he leaned forward, kissing Ben on the forehead. Ben was taken aback by the sudden tenderness, the strange flutter of a phantom kiss, a brush of the Force against his skin.

“It might not feel like it now, but you are loved, Ben. More than you know," Anakin said softly, then stepped back and folded his hands, indicating that he was preparing to vanish once more.

"Be good, little starfighter. Use that heart. It won’t lead you astray.”

After a moment, Ben spoke.

“I will, Grandfather. Thank you.”

Anakin nodded and stepped back. The men regarded each other for a moment.

“May the Force be with you, Ben Solo,” Anakin said softly, before disappearing from the room.

Ben stared at the spot where Anakin had stood for a moment before he walked over to his bed, picking up the discarded staff, rough and sharp and wonderfully tangible beneath his hands.

Sitting on the edge of his unmade bed, he carefully unwrapped the cloth strips and pulled out the note he had learned by heart.

Carefully, he slipped off his glove and ran his fingertips over the fading graphite.

_I'll be thinking of you until I get back._

_Don't re-break anything while I'm gone._

_I love you._

_Your Rey_

He sighed, remembering her whispering the words frantically into his mind as she fled the cabin, panting her love for him against his skin. He remembered her mind cradling his.

He remembered. He wanted to believe. He let the anguish of her rejection fall down his cheek and collect along the seal of his mask.

He studied the words until he could see them when he closed his eyes. He etched them into his memory, let the marks further stain his battered heart. At least he could cling to the knowledge that Rey had at one time said these words to him. He had to believe that she loved him once. The alternative was unbearable to think about.

So he didn’t think about it. Instead, he thought of that beautiful, rainy afternoon in their cave, the water of Cantonica’s moonlit sea making her glow like an angel on the dark beach, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. He remembered the moments when he had been her beloved, her Ben. Despite his present sorrow, he felt there was a strange joy in remembering her, the ache in his heart lightened by her memory if that was all she was to him now. The lightness of her almost felt like hope.

He was interrupted by a knocking on the door.

“Supreme Leader? It is time.”

Carefully, Ben stuffed the note into his pocket. Restoring his glove, he tugged his cape, a shroud of heavy black, over his shoulders, and shot one final glance in the mirror.

He was an elegant warlord, dressed for a battle of wills against an army of opponents both outside of and within the First Order. If his suit wasn’t imposing enough with its sharp angles, his sweeping black cape and mask certainly finished the look.

But something was still wrong. His costume was on, but he wasn’t yet in character. He was still vulnerable, lost little Ben Solo. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and blinked back any more traitorous tears that would ruin his disguise.

Even if he couldn’t care less what role he played in the galaxy, he at least looked the part of the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

It would be enough for tonight, anyway. The charade would last him through the night, this mask and costume would protect Ben Solo’s broken heart for another day.

And tomorrow…

He felt the note weighing heavily in his pocket.

He thought of Anakin’s words.

_You’ve worked too hard to find yourself again. Don’t give up. You’ll find what else you’ve lost._

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would decide his fate for himself.

 

 

Even from a distance, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was ominous.

The guests who entered the reception hall descended the stairs that faced their host, who perched stiffly on his onyx throne atop a raised dais. The galaxy, vast and dark, unfolded behind him in massive looming viewports; his domain unending. Though the dancefloor and the tables surrounding it separated the entering guests from the guest of honor, his dark eyes looming over the half mask on his face seemed to slice right through those entering his court for the evening.

Guests were compelled to make an introduction to the Supreme Leader, if not right as they arrived, but soon after they had acquired enough liquid courage to confront the cruel sovereign. In turn, each guest would give their name to their host and then curtsey or bow or display another customary greeting. The Supreme Leader would beckon them closer to his sinister throne, providing them with a rare opportunity to maybe exchange a few words with the infamous Lord Ren.

These exchanges were always unpleasant, as Ren’s metallic booming voice never failed to unsettle, even if his eyes lost some of their icy edge upon closer, albeit ill-advised, inspection. Still, after expressing joy at the Supreme Leader’s survival, some guests tried to engage him in conversation about business interests in various systems. If the requests became too cloying, those hawk-like eyes would narrow, and Ren would direct the guests to speak to one of his officers about arranging meetings.

Perceptive guests would notice the air feeling thicker, full of static, as the Supreme Leader would curtly bid them enjoy the party. Those who tried to say more were met with silence from Ren, and officers would descend onto the guests and gently but firmly guide them back towards the center of the hall for more civilized company, or better yet, towards the bar to soothe their wounds.

Then as the guests were plied with food and drink and their curiosity about the mysterious First Order figurehead was satiated, they would forget about him and his all-seeing eyes altogether and get lost in the evening’s diversions.

 

Ben watched. He played his part well.

He had slipped easily into his scripted part the moment he entered the mostly empty hall.

Hux had given him a cursory compliment on his appearance before running him through the evening’s schedule. Ben—Kylo Ren— would be receiving guests for the better part of the event. Dancing would not start until after the guests had all arrived and were well-fed and properly sauced. There was a private chamber with a refresher for him near the back of the hall should he need to take care of himself. Hux thought of everything, of course; this meant that there would be no way for Kylo Ren to sneak out of this evening’s festivities and return to his quarters undetected. Crafty. However, it was not difficult for Ben to feign haughty indifference as he listened to Hux prattle on. This part of the performance was easy, at least.

He had been ushered to his throne just as a lower-ranking officer entered the hall to announce that the first guests had begun arriving in the landing bay. As soon as Ben was seated, Hux cued up the orchestra and called, “Send them in!”

And thus the drudgery began.

Ben reflected that it was simultaneously not as bad and also worse than he expected. His mask fit much better now, the role so easily separated from himself. But that didn’t mean it was enjoyable to play.

It became predictable quickly. He would hear the announcer droid bellowing the names of the entering guests and their homeworld; the well-dressed, fiendishly rich guests would make a grand entrance, then often make a beeline for the dais where Kylo Ren sat. Ben would validate their attendance, and then, their obligations fulfilled for the evening, they would escape from his orbit, happily seeking out food or drink or companionship elsewhere.

“You seem to be behaving yourself quite well Supreme Leader,” Hux had quipped in passing. Ben had a retort searing his tongue, but a new couple appeared on the dais before he could respond.

A well-appointed older man stood before Ben, accompanied by a beautiful young girl, barely out of her teens. Bowing, he introduced himself as the Count Haroc Dymsil, lord of some Mid-Rim moon Ben had never heard of. He then introduced his daughter, Eri'doe Dymsil, whose green gown hissed as she dipped into an elegant curtsy.

“A pleasure, my Lord, and an honor.”

Ben nodded his head, bidding Eri’doe to rise with a slight gesture of his hand.

She stood frozen until her father whispered hastily to her. She rose from her curtsy, finally, but her eyes never lifted. She stared determinedly at Ben’s feet.

Ben could feel the terror rolling off of her. He was only partially surprised; many guests felt discomfort in his presence. Eri’doe, however, was petrified.

Her father hurried to smooth over any perceived slights.

“You’ll have to forgive my daughter, Supreme Leader. She’s very excited to meet you, I assure you...”

_A lie, but a charming one._

“...but she has never been to an event of this scale! She is the best dancer in our system, and I couldn’t let talent like hers be withheld from—”

“Is that true?” Ben asked, his voice booming.

Eri’doe seemed to jump out of her skin at being addressed. Keeping her gaze low, she nodded.

“She loves to dance, Supreme Leader,” her father interjected, suddenly catching his daughter’s fretfulness. ”I absolutely had to bring her to this ball. I could think of no finer opportunity for her to showcase her gifts.”

Despite the count’s sudden panic, Ben felt a certain earnestness that was lacking from many of the other guests. Some sought power from the First Order, to claw their way into the favor of the new regime, but the Count genuinely only sought to exhibit his daughter’s talents, to give her a social debut that one would not get on her homeworld.

And his daughter just wanted her father to stop embarrassing her in front of the scary lord on his throne of nightmares.

“She is welcome,” Ben said, the gravel of his vocabulator surprisingly gentle. “You both are. The First Order is grateful for your attendance.”

He felt like a droid repeating the same rote phrases ad nauseum, but maybe this time, he meant it.

“Please, enjoy the party.”

With another quick round of curtsies and bows, the timid count and his daughter slipped away from the dais.

Ben sighed, grateful his vocalizer didn’t pick up the sound.  The Force swirled laconically around the hall, sweeping in and around the affluent guests. Ben found their conversations idle, their thoughts trivial, their moods generally light. It took all his strength not to sink into a slouch in the uncomfortable throne and just doze.

The night was dragging, and he hadn’t even made it to the dancing portion.

“Master Rogeant Birkhen of Chandrilla and Master Noahaldo Pruicavehe of Coruscant!” the announcer droid cried, and a glimmering humanoid couple descended down the stairs.

Ben had no desire to read the Force around these newest guests. It would be more of the same. He felt his eyes glazing over, but he retained his regal posture, his hands rarely leaving the arms of the throne.

Only a few more hours of this.

“Lord and Lady Follau of Bastatha!” he heard over the growing chatter from the tables around the dancefloor.

An officer approached him to ask him if he needed anything. Ben waved him away, but then the announcer droid’s latest pronouncement caught his attention.

“...and Lady Viré Tasolis of Naboo.”

All sound left the room.

Ben’s heart lurched at the familiar name, that name that he had given Rey, that beautiful and dangerous mask she had worn so perfectly ages ago. His eyes darted to the top of the stairs.

His breath froze in his lungs, and as he took in the couple entering the hall, he felt the Force strike him, a blade piercing his heart.

_Rey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers: Please...just reunite Rey and Kylo...we beg you.
> 
> Us, the uncaring authors playing gods: PORG MEDITATION PORG MEDITATION PORG MEDITATION.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have nothing left to lose," she said, her voice low and intense.

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow  
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

         Twelfth Night, or What You Will, I.IV

* * *

_She remembered this place. Ashes swirled around the edges of the stained and scarred floor. The ballroom was empty, silent but for the swish of skirts on marble._

_She slipped down the stairs, surveying the room as she reached the bottom. She was the last dancer on the floor.  
_

_She knew this place. But something was missing._

_Where was he?_

_She felt him in her shadow, incorporeal as smoke, dark and thick as old ink. He stood at her back, his darkness curling around her, consuming her._

_“A Jakku trash rat. My, aren’t you out of place. You have no business being here.”_

_The whispered, metallic rumble of his voice sank like ice into the marrow of her bones._

_"Neither do you," she hissed. "I thought we had agreed that masks are not suitable formal wear,_ Kylo. _"_

_She spat the name like poison, the syllables sour in her mouth._

_"Funny. Aren't you wearing a mask yourself?” His cape brushed at her bare arm as he circled her, a predator. He assessed her as he roved, his mask following the length of her body.  
_

_“Who put you in a party dress and called you a princess?”_

_"You did." Her eyes were hard and flinty and narrowed up at him. "This is all_ your _doing."_

_She hated this creature, this shade of lies and broken promises. He had stolen everything from her; her life, her friends, her integrity, her heart. Stolen it all and left without looking back._

_"A monster of my own making." She could hear the subtle, cold pride in his voice. "And yet, you don't belong here. Not here, not anywhere. Your parents were right leaving you to rot on Jakku. The Resistance was right leaving you to rot in that cell."_

_He scoffed. "You will always be nothing."_

_She whirled on him, taking in the looming tower of shadow that he presented, the empty faceplate that hid him from her.  
_

_"And yet you begged for me to touch you," she sneered. "Practically wept when I made you come."_

_Now she circled him, every muscle tense and ready for a battle. And for once she didn't fight it. She let the bitterness and rage and anguish pour out in waves of caustic acid._

_"What does that make you, Supreme Leader?"_

_He folded his arms across his broad chest with disinterest._

_"If I recall, I didn't force my cock into your hands. You took it yourself eagerly. Why is that? Ah yes. I have_ the body of a god, _she said. Tell me, how many portions were you worth on Jakku?"_

_She barked a harsh laugh. "Wouldn't you like to know."_

_She fought the urge to reach out, to touch him, her heart weak in spite of their bitter words. Ben was in there, wasn’t he? She swallowed the flickering candle-flame of affection that she held for this shadow of her lover. She let it burn, let it feed her anger._

_"And if I hadn’t taken you in hand, you would’ve just cried some more about your pathetic, broken ass and how you couldn’t fuck me the way you wanted."_

_"Like you weren't crying for it. Begging for me,” he growled, mask close to her ear, a whisper over her shoulder. "What is the name you cry when you pleasure yourself? Is it Ben Solo or Kylo Ren?"_

_She jerked away from the cold metal and the warm body, the heat of him radiating out onto her bare arms. This monster wasn't Ben, no matter how much her traitorous senses wanted her to believe it was._

_"Fuck off, Sith scum," she hissed._

_"Ah, testy. So it is Kylo Ren. He's the one you fuck," he said with a low, sinister laugh. "Ben Solo is the one you have childish dreams about marrying and flying away with.  
_

_In a blur of shadow, he caught her wrist in his gloved hand, the leather creaking under his grip and pulled her close to his body. Too close. She was drawn into his heat, and against her will, her own body responded to it._  
  
_“But you know my touch,” he growled, his mechanical voice feral. “You still crave it."_  
  
His other arm locked like a molten iron bar against her waist his leather glove spanning her lower back greedily, a hideous mockery of the dances they had shared in this room a lifetime ago.

_“You long for the way you get to lose control on my cock, under my mouth, around my fingers. You begged for it. Screamed for it. Let me have all of it willingly, like the wanton little slut you are.”_

_She twisted in his hold, hating the part of her that cried out for the solid warmth of him against her again. This wasn't Ben. This wasn't her Ben. She turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut to the blank face of Kylo Ren._

_"Kindly refer to my previous statement and fuck off," she bit back._

_"The blood on my hands keeps running, little girl.” His fingers slipped along the exposed skin of her back, sliding under the fabric, taking her, taking more. She felt the gloved fingertips slide against the side of her breast and she swallowed a gasp. “What makes you so brave?"_

_The laugh that bubbled up from her throat was choked, manic, almost mad.  
_

_Brave. She wasn't brave. She was empty, angry, and bitter. She wanted to fight. She wanted to see him bleed. She wanted to make him suffer as she had. But she knew that she wasn't going to win this battle.  
_

_“I have nothing left to lose," she said, her voice low and intense._

_She tilted her head back to bare the pale column of her neck. "Go on, lover, wrap those bloody hands around my throat and choke the life out of me. Because I would ask that you actually use your hands to get the job done, rather than relying on the Force."_

_Her eyes bored into the place where his eyes should have been. "It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? To snuff out the light? This is your chance, you coward, do it."_

_He whirled her around the floor as if lead by the call of an invisible symphony. His fist closed around her wrist, arm tightening around her waist possessively._

_"You're not worthy of my touch. Not worthy of love or hatred. Too much effort. They were right to leave you to rot. I've already gotten all anyone can get from you, garbage whore."_

_There it was. That word again._

_Whore.  
_

_She cursed the pain that she felt when it was spoken in Ben's voice. Cursed the weakness that suffused her limbs as her rage gave way to humiliation and agony. Cursed the tears that threatened at the corners of her eyes._

_He spun her away, the momentum throwing her to the floor where she stayed, breathing harshly, on her knees. He stalked closer, crouched down to her level, and grasped her jaw in his massive hand. Leather slid against her cheeks, now wet with traitorous tears._

_“They were right,” he whispered as the world around her faded into smoke and darkness. “Every word. Just a traitorous, worthless whore...”_

Though she woke, the nightmare would not end.  


The wind across the stones seemed to hiss all night and into the day. Eerie, hollow moans that accused her from the very heavens.

_Whore.  
_

_Whore.  
_

_Supreme Leader’s Whore…_

For the following day, Rey merely laid on her bed. At first, she slept; a hard sleep that sank aches into her bones and joints and left her eyes feeling gritty and even more exhausted than she had been when she laid down. Captain Ræh took up a guard behind her on the mattress, watching balefully as her charge awoke and just stayed there, not even turning to seek comfort from the little pilot.

Rey stared at the wall unblinkingly, trying to avoid the sunlight dappling the floor. She couldn’t face it and its imagined caresses.

The words were true. She just hadn’t been listening when they were first uttered amidst a world of power and affluence, of gowns and jewels and extravagant falsehoods. She had been whole then. She had Ben then. She could play at the righteous indignation and believe it.

Foolish as it was now, she had prided herself for never having resorted to selling her body for portions. She saw too many young women forced to become skin girls on Jakku when work became scarce. She watched them wilt under the hot sun at Niima Outpost, calling out to customers with sand-rough voices. But not Rey. No, Rey had will, pride, self-respect.

That was before.

 _Just look at yourself,_ murmured that soft, cold voice in her head. _You gave him everything. Spread your legs and let him take it all from you. Let him use you. And now here you are._  
  
_Empty. Wasted. A husk. Just another prostitute at the Outpost._

The voice chuckled and it felt like the memory of dirty claws and fetid breath scratching her mind, like her spine bowed and breaking against a Force-grip in a red room, like a growl turned metallic behind a ghoulish mask, like the gaze of a cruel and beautiful woman who shared her face.

_Even if he did come back, there’s nothing left of you to love. You gave it all away.  
_

She blinked slowly, unable to summon any more tears to cry. She couldn’t deny any of it. She didn’t have the strength anymore.

 

M4-7T and 8R-U5H appeared at some point, whether it was minutes or hours later after she awoke she couldn’t say.

“Mistress?” said Emfor quietly. “It is time for your exercise.”

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She heard the whirring of servos as Aytar approached. He had a slight click in his right leg.

“Mistress Rey, you cannot stay like this. Some sunshine will do you good.”

She shied away when she heard him reach out to touch her shoulder.

Quiet behind her.

“Maybe it would be best for her to skip today,” supplied Emfor. “She may not be safe outside after what happened. If someone was brazen enough to vandalize her quarters, who is to say that they will not try to attack her? We cannot defend her adequately if they do.”

“You are probably right. But I am worried about her. She is clearly not taking this well.”

She didn’t care that they were talking about her as if she wasn’t there. In a way, she wasn’t. This was just her shell. The part that was Rey, sand-scarred and determined and hopeful, was dying somewhere in a cave on Takodana.

“Mistress,” Aytar coaxed gently. “For your safety, we think it would be better to stay inside today. We greatly apologize. We will come back later if the General sends for you.”

No answer.

She listened as the droids whirr-clicked out of her room, stopping as if they wanted to say something else, then moving on as they thought better of it. The door slid shut again, and silence reigned once more.

 

_Supreme Leader’s Whore._

It had been hours since Poe had first received the news, and he still couldn’t believe it. He wasn't sure what was more disturbing: the vandalism or the fact that he could very well guess who might have written it. He had heard all sorts of names for his former friend flying around the base, each crueler than the last.

So he had gone to her cell himself. He had seen the red paint across the door, and he couldn’t help but feel chilled by it.

Maybe it was the red. They ran a scan to determine it wasn’t actually blood. But even then, he knew it had nothing to do with the paint’s color; he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his fault.

He sighed, pushing away his datapad and staring out the viewport over the dust dancing across the crater in the late afternoon sun.

Rey. Scavenger turned Jedi turned Resistance hero, now a traitor and menace.

She had been one of Poe’s closest friends. Now she was another loss hanging on his conscience.

He knew in his heart that he was doing the right thing, putting aside their friendship for the sake of the Resistance, for the safety and security of everyone he fought for.

But then he thought of his friend, thought of Rey, the beautiful, vibrant girl who had saved the Resistance in their darkest hour; who would tease him and Finn to cheer up Rose; who would eagerly await his return in the hangars to ask him about where he had gone; who, just weeks ago, had been teaching him meditation beside a lake on Takodana. The four of them splashing in the water together, Rey laughing and playing along, as if none of it was an act, as if she wasn’t betraying them as they swam...

Poe couldn’t connect these images of Rey in happier times to the woman crying in a cabin, the woman he knew now had been merely twisting his emotions so she could continue to deceive him. He couldn’t think of her without the phantom knife twisting in his back.

He didn’t want to think about the implications of the vandalism. He couldn’t even think of her as...as what the writing on the door suggested.

But the words were there, nesting behind his eyes, even when he retreated back up the passage to his quarters. It was there when he closed his eyes. It was there as he sat in the communications room consulting a datapad.

It wasn’t true. Rey had done terrible things, certainly, but…

_Supreme Leader’s Whore._

He tried not to think of her in love with Kylo Ren, no matter how many times she had sworn that her heart beat only for him. He tried not to think of Ren using her in return. He knew Rey was smart, devilishly clever, but was she still naive enough to be charmed by him, manipulated by pretty words and empty promises?

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t fathom Kylo Ren loving her back. And the thought of her giving herself over to him knowingly…

He shook his head to clear the image. It was just too horrible to think about.

She had sacrificed her duty to the Resistance, her ideals, her relationships, the trust that she carried, for a man who had tried to kill them all. And the worst of it all, of knowing that he could have stopped it had his shot been just a little more certain, had he caught Rey in time, had he seen through her plan and talked her out of it, was that his friend could have been spared.

And maybe he wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.

Finn and Rose refused to see things his way. Didn’t they feel betrayed too? He couldn’t tell anymore. Finn had cooperated before, helped crack her stubborn shell open in the first place, now he wanted nothing to do with the investigation. Rose, however, had made her stance, and disdain, abundantly clear. Didn’t they care that Rey had betrayed them? Maybe they had simply forgotten the reality of it, forgotten how she had loved them and then turned against them. He couldn’t forget.

Whereas Leia, much as he loved and respected her, wouldn’t let the issue die.

 

He thought he’d settled it when he allowed Rey to be moved into a nicer cell, but even then, the General had not been content to let the issue drop, causing their most recent altercation several weeks prior.

Poe had scarcely waited for the door to open before he stormed in, shoving past a spluttering Threepio.

“By Yavin’s _fucking moons_ , Leia, do you ever quit?” he bellowed.

Leia had gently set her teacup down on its saucer, the picture of calm and grace.

"I figured after the thirteenth page you ignored I would have to be creative," she said with a minute shrug. "If that means sending every astromech on the base to fetch you, so be it. But since you’re here..."

She had kicked out the chair in front of her.

"Have a seat, Poe. We need to talk."

“I think I’ll stand,” he growled. “This isn’t going to take long.”

"Oh?" Leia raised her brows. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

Poe had pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and groaned.

“She confessed, Leia. It’s done. You can’t talk your way out of it. She. Is. Guilty. End of discussion. Now, may I please get back to work?”

"Rey admitted to protecting Ben, sure, but no trial has ever been scheduled, no judgment formally rendered besides your own. You'll be lucky to still have a job once we're done here," Leia said curtly. "It's as you said. She confessed. She is cooperating. She's adapting well to her new cell. But I'm afraid it's too little too late."

He had dragged his hands the rest of the way down his face, resting them finally on his hips, and barked a sardonic laugh.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll bite. What’s wrong with her now?”

"Up until recently, she was one of your best friends, and you traumatized her to the point that she was catatonic with grief. This is _not_ how the Rebellion handled Imperial prisoners, and I don't know why you think it’s necessary that the Resistance should treat one of our own this way."

Leia leaned forward. "This is personal, Poe. Admit it. You need to remedy this."

His face had turned stony, his sparkling eyes hardened to flint.

“ _I_ need to remedy this? She was _sleeping_ with the enemy!” he had shouted, but the words had sounded weak, even as they left his mouth.

"And while she was looking after him, he wasn't working with the First Order," Leia countered with irritating calm. "She was not making the most prudent decisions, I'm sure, but she was also bringing the Supreme Leader over to _our_ side, making him see things _our_ way."

She had cocked her head. "And I think she succeeded more than either of us can see."

He scoffed.

“Right, so should I be expecting the Supreme Leader’s enlistment papers at some point soon? Because it’s been _months_ , Leia. Don’t you think that he would’ve defected by now if she had succeeded the way you think she did?”

"Look, Finn was lucky to slip away with you. Who is going to take a chance breaking Kylo Ren out of the First Order?"

“Well that Hux guy sure seems up for anything,” he muttered.

"Exactly," Leia said, charging forward with her point. "So why are we treating Rey like some criminally hopeless cause? She's still a good person. She was trying to save Kylo Ren. She must believe he is, too."

“That’s great for her, truly, but how am I supposed to take her at her word now, hm?”

His eyes raked over the General’s infuriatingly calm expression. He’d never quite learned how to cover the heart on his sleeve.

“She lied to me, Leia. Lied to all of us. Surely you can understand why I would be reluctant to trust a lying thief.”

"Is there nothing she can do to work her way back into your good graces, Poe? Or does she deserve to be locked up in the darkest, coldest cell we have here while we throw away the key?”

He had turned away to look out of the viewport. The shadows in the desert were long and ominous in the fading daylight. They caught in the rock formations and toppled ruins of an ancient city. A civilization turned to rubble on the order of a different masked man in black.

In truth, he didn’t know what Rey could do for him to trust her again. Her betrayal had cut deep. It would be a long road to healing that wound.

A voice in his head that he so rarely listened to, the voice of reason, a voice that nowadays sounded strangely like Admiral Holdo, reminded him softly that what he was doing to her was only keeping the wound open.

He sighed slowly as if releasing months worth of air. He was tired of bleeding.

“No,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t.”

He turned back to his commander.

“But _he_ doesn’t get to escape the consequences of his actions.”

"He doesn't, and he won't, but we need to extract him before he can face judgment," she said, worrying the rim of her teacup with one elegant, ringed finger. "Rey is a Jedi. She can use the Force. Use _her._ You know she can get to Ben in a way none of us can."

Poe exhaled heavily and finally took the chair that Leia had offered.

“I have one condition if this...whatever it is, is going to go forward.”

"Name it."

“Extract Ben Solo, or kill Kylo Ren.”

"What?" Leia froze, staring at him.

“If you’re right and Rey did change his mind, then she’ll have no problem bringing Ben Solo back.”

Then his face turned hard.

“But if Kylo Ren hasn’t changed, if she can’t convince him to defect, she can’t leave him alive.”

He saw her flinch minutely and willed himself to keep going. He respected this woman more than anyone. He didn’t want to hurt her. But this couldn’t continue.

“We have to end this, Leia. We don’t have the resources to keep fighting. Our numbers are lower than ever, our people are losing hope. If she cuts the head off of the snake, then the war is over.”

After a moment of contemplation, Leia sighed.

"You’re right,” she admitted reluctantly. “Your condition is fair, about as just as can be expected. I just hope…”  
  
She trailed off, but Poe understood. Leia resumed a moment later.  
  
“You'll let me work with Rey? Give her more freedom so she can get to Ben?"

Poe was quiet for a long minute.

“I’ll allow it.”

Leia seemed suddenly giddy. "Good. I'll have the binders taken off of her promptly. We'll begin looking for Ben, see if we can't..."

“Oh no, the binders stay on,” he said flatly.

"Why?” Leia sighed, rolling her eyes. “How is she, a Jedi, supposed to help us if she's powerless?"

“We know he’s with the First Order. We don’t have to find him. She’s already unstable, who knows what she could do with them off. Find another way.”

"Why are you so intent on dehumanizing her, Poe?" Leia snapped. "You know she's not crazy. You're just pushing her towards the edge!"

“I saw what she did on Crait. I know you did too. You don’t think she could tear this whole base to the ground to get out? I can’t take that risk. Not with dozens of lives under this roof.”

"She's not a murderer! She's just trapped. You're making her into something worse than she is."

“And you are blind to the fact that she has a dark side too!” he spat. “Trapped animals lash out, Leia. I’m making sure that she doesn’t bite us.”

"She's not an animal, either! She's a young woman who is suffering, and you seem hellbent on making it worse."

“She made her choice!” he shouted. “And now she’s living with the consequences. You can’t keep making excuses for her just because she’s in love with your son.”

"And you can't keep torturing her just because you want to exact your personal vendetta against the First Order on her!"

“Torture? I’ve never touched her!”

"You're depriving her of everything but basic food, water, and shelter! You don't have to put a finger on her when you could just neglect her to death."

“She survived alone in the desert, she can do it again,” he hissed.

Leia rose abruptly. "You were her friend, Poe Dameron! You _know_ the trauma that shaped her, and you would use that against her, abandon her to that same fate again? Does this sound like justice to you? You're no better than the First Order!"

Poe’s jaw clenched until it nearly cracked. His eyes darkened dangerously.

“I’m still in charge of this investigation, General,” he said, quiet anger seething just beneath his voice. “Don’t forget that I’m overlooking your recusal, one that you agreed to in full view of Resistance High Command, so that you can enact an insane rescue attempt for your son.”

He rose slowly, towering over her.

“Don’t insult me again, Leia,” he said quietly.

"I didn't recuse myself so you can harm my friends and family without recourse," she said slowly, full of that simmering fury Poe had long since learned to fear. "Rey could be betrothed to General Hux for all I care; it still doesn't excuse the way you've allowed her to be treated. You haven't seen the pain you have caused her.”

She had settled back down into her seat. Even as he towered over her, she had radiated the kind of power that made Poe feel small, childish before her.  
  
“Maybe you should see her for yourself."

He scoffed derisively. 

“If you honestly think that tugging on my heartstrings will do any good, by all means, knock yourself out,” he said flatly. “Those cuffs aren’t coming off.”

"If she's going to save my son, they'll have to come off eventually,” Leia had declared, before changing topic. “I will need to meet with her to discuss how we're going to achieve that, of course."

He gave a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. And _of course_ , Azwe will be facilitating this conversation. Out of the sanctity of the pending investigations, we can’t have you unsupervised.”

"Fabulous," Leia said, picking up her teacup again victoriously. "I'll arrange a chat with Rey soon."

“Yes, have your people call her people. Set up a lunch date. Would the lady prefer her water sparkling or still?” he muttered as he turned to go. 

Then he stopped and leveled a loaded look at the General. 

“As much as you don’t want to believe it,” he said, his voice low, “everything I do, I do for you and the Resistance.”

His eyes took on a faraway, pained expression. 

“Someone’s hands have to get dirty so that yours stay clean, General.”

"Your hands don't have to be bloodied, Poe," Leia said quietly. "Take it from someone who has lost more than her fair share in these wars. There's already enough harm being done. It’s easy to give in to anger. It takes a lot more strength to show mercy."

Poe nodded, knocking a fist absently against the doorframe, his gaze still lightyears away.

"Comm me when you've set the meeting up," he muttered. And he had walked out, the door sliding resolutely shut behind him.

 

 

It hadn’t taken long at all for the General to contact him again. This time it didn’t take an army of astromech droids, just one neurotic protocol droid.

“...tain...Captain? Captain Dameron?”

Poe snapped into awareness, feeling rather like someone had woken him up from a long nap, his eyes still watching the swirling dust in the distance. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Captain Dameron," C-3PO said, halting before him. "General Organa requests your presence on an urgent matter—"  
  
Poe held up a hand.  
  
"It's not about the Rey thing, is it?"  
  
"I beg your pardon," the flustered droid began. "I cannot be certain what the General requests you for, but she has stressed that the matter is urgent."  
  
"So it is the Rey thing, huh?"

“Ehm...well...yes, sir.”

And there was the headache.

He exhaled heavily. “Where and when?”  


She was waiting for him when he arrived at the little observation chamber attached to Interrogation Room 5. She didn’t say anything, but the stone around her eyes cracked a bit when she saw that he’d come five minutes early. The nod that she gave him was the closest thing to approval that he’d seen from her in months.

The tear in his and Leia’s relationship had been weighing heavy on him since her recusal hearing. He knew that she didn’t trust him anymore. After so many years in her mostly good graces, it was hard for him to survive out of the warmth of her approval. But he was dealing with it. He was making his own decisions, and taking responsibility for them, no matter what it cost him. He had to believe that he was doing the right thing. He  _was_ doing the right thing.

...wasn’t he?

Azwe entered the room not long after, and something flickered behind her eyes at the sight of Poe before she nodded. Mistrust.  
  
"Captain," she said, taking her usual seat.  
  
There was a moment of chilly silence before Leia spoke.  
  
"She wouldn't come easily, but the droids finally coaxed her out of her room. She's on her way."  
  
"Is she alright?" Azwe whispered after a moment of hesitation.  
  
"She's safe. That's the best any of us can say for her."  
  
"Any leads?"  
  
"Can't say," the General said. "The investigation is still ongoing."  
  
The silence returned, colder than before.  
  
The guilt followed moments later when Rey was brought into the room.

It seemed as though her eyes had been drained of every last drop of color, the vibrant shifting hazel replaced with a dull gray. She seemed to struggle with the effort to even hold her head up as her guards lowered her gently to her seat. They disengaged from her cuffs and hesitated a moment before leaving, exchanging silent glances with each other and casting looks back at their charge that almost seemed to resemble concern.  Left alone in the room, Rey sat silent and slouched in her chair as if her strings had been cut.

Poe couldn't miss the shock that rippled from the two women in front of him.  
  
"Hi, Rey, it's Azwe again. Can you hear me?" the Togruta began softly.

The prisoner nodded once, very slowly.

"Okay, I have the General here. She has a few more questions if that's alright?"

Another nod.

"Tell her," Leia said.  
  
Azwe looked at the woman skeptically but then turned back to the microphone.  
  
"I also have Captain Dameron here, Rey. He's observing."

She flinched minutely and her next inhale stuck in her lungs.

"Is that okay?" Azwe pressed. "You can come back later—”  
  
"No, we have to do this today," Leia murmured. "We need to know what she knows."

Rey lifted her face to look straight through the black glass. Straight at Poe. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, dark circles weighing heavy above her cheeks. She looked exhausted, beaten. Broken.  
  
“I am at your disposal,” she croaked quietly. “What do you need from me?”

Leia released a relieved sigh, dropping her head and staring at the floor. She took a deep breath and gazed out at Rey.  
  
"Can you summarize the background information in the case file for her?"  
  
Azwe's eyes briefly flicked over a datapad. "Sure thing."  
  
She flipped on the microphone and spoke into it, clearly and slowly.  
  
"Thank you, Rey. Intelligence has determined that the First Order has sent communiques out to key players in the political, industrial, and financial sectors for a celebration of the return of the Supreme Leader that will take place in a few weeks."

There was a fleeting pause as the interrogator gauged Rey’s reaction. She did not move, her eyes still downcast.

“It’s supposed to be a formal gala. Did you know anything about this event from your prior interactions with B--the Supreme Leader?”

“No, I did not.”

"Question 2," Leia muttered.  
  
Azwe continued softly down the list of prepared questions. "Given your prior contact with the Supreme Leader, can you theorize any intentions that he or the First Order might have for this event?"

Rey shrugged heavily. “He’s not much for parties; I doubt he was the one who planned it.”

"Go ahead, ask her 4c," Leia urged.  
  
"Do you have any insight as to who might have been invited?"

Rey paused for a moment, her eyes fluttering closed to try to wrack her brains for anything.  
  
“Uh...no one specific. Most of the supporters I knew of died in the massacre on Canto Bight.”

Azwe swore under her breath.  
  
"Did the intelligence report come in?" she asked Leia.  
  
"Not yet, no," Leia growled.  
  
"What's the problem?" Poe asked, sardonically. "Is this a good time or not?"

Suddenly, Rey’s mouth stretched into something like a cruel smile.  
  
“Is Dwane Soruta still alive?”

Leia blinked, then quickly tapped the datapad.  
  
"Yes, unfortunately," she said. "Or maybe it is fortunate after all."  
  
"He is. Why do you ask?" Azwe said into the mic.

That cold smile iced over even further.  
  
“We have an in,” Rey rasped. “And it’s Soruta.”

The interrogation room was silent as the General and interrogator stared at their prisoner.

"You think? Him?" Azwe broke the script in her puzzlement.

Leia turned to Poe, a look of awe mingled with triumph crossing her face.

Rey sat forward, digging her elbows into her knees, and letting her heavy hands hang between them.  
  
“He’s easily one of the worst people I’ve met, but yeah. Him,” she mumbled.  
  
She thought for another long moment then looked up at the glass again.  
  
“Do you have contact channels in the black market?”

The three exchanged incredulous looks.  
  
"Potentially. What are you thinking, Rey?" Azwe asked with surprising calm.

“I’ve got a...” She stopped, as though the word hurt. “...a friend who might do me a favor.”

She exhaled slowly and not quite evenly.  
  
“Send out an encrypted communique for a mercenary named Bazine Netal. Tell her that...that Viré Tasolis requires her expertise.”

"Oh she can't be serious," Poe snapped.  
  
"I think she is," Leia said tartly.  
  
She leaned over to the microphone and switched it on.  
  
"Rey, you're sure about this? This isn't the kind of contact we can make lightly."  
  
"General," Poe warned.  
  
Leia swatted at him, violations be damned. What Rey was suggesting was dangerous, but laying heavy in Leia's chest was a blossom of hope.

Rey swallowed and nodded, twisting her fingers together in her lap.  
  
"I’m sure Bazine doesn't come cheap, but she's good at what she does and she's discreet," she mumbled. "As for Soruta...I met him that night on Canto Bight. He..." She shuddered. "...expressed interest in me. Or rather, my cover identity: Lady Viré Tasolis."  
  
She turned her tired, hollow eyes to the glass again. "He won't be able to resist getting another chance at Lady Viré. Set me out as bait and I'll reel him in."

"Well?" Leia crossed her arms and turned to Poe. "What did I tell you? She knows what has to be done. Do we have your approval?"  
  
Poe glared for a moment.  
  
"Come on, Poe. She's your friend. She's cooperating. You know you want to let her earn back her freedom. Here's our chance."  
  
Poe relaxed. It couldn't be this easy, but for a moment, he was happy to believe it was. Happy to imagine that Rey could be pardoned. She’d be out of his hair.

 _She’d be off your conscience, you mean,_ the Holdo-like voice in his mind drawled.  
  
"Alright, what does she need from us?"  
  
Azwe repeated the question into the microphone.

Rey's face was impassive, but the quiet pain in her eyes was unmistakable.  
  
"Once Bazine tracks him down, get me in a room with him."

"What does that entail?" Poe asked, taking the microphone. "I don't get it."

Rey’s color seemed to drain a bit further at the sound of his voice. Scared. He swallowed down the stab of pain that the reaction brought on. She shivered slightly before taking a deep breath and carrying on; though her fingers were clenched so tightly together in her lap that he could almost hear her knuckles pop.

"It means I'll have to try to charm him into going along with our demands..." she replied quietly.

"And then what? You have him tell the Supreme Leader to turn himself in?" Poe asked.

"...and then I use his invitation to infiltrate the First Order's celebration to get Ben out," she finished.

There was another moment of silence.  
  
"Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"

She dug her knuckles into her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
"Probably, yeah."

Poe turned to Leia.  
  
"Was this your big plan?"  
  
"No," the General replied. "I'm letting her improvise. But I can’t say I hate it."

Poe leaned into the microphone again and sighed. "Alright, walk me through this again, slowly."

“Dwane Soruta has an invitation into the heart of the First Order for this gala. He can bring a companion of his choice. Lady Viré Tasolis, the woman he knows me as, needs to be his choice. I can convince Dwane to pick me. Shouldn’t take too much weedling. That way, I can get into that party and extract Ben Solo alive. Then...”  
  
She sat back, rubbing absently at her raw wrists. _Ben._ Could she just appear before him and convince him to come back to her? When he saw her, would he even still know her? Want her?

These weren’t concerns she needed to share, however.  
  
“That’s the plan,” she rasped.

"...you're expecting to go to a First Order party?" Poe asked.  
  
"Yes, she is," Leia said, exasperated. "And I have the perfect dress for her."

The laugh that escaped Rey’s throat was desperate, hoarse, and just shy of manic.  
  
“Stars, I hadn’t even thought about a dress,” she wheezed, her voice shaking with her shoulders.

"I can't believe this," Poe bit out. "We're hiring a mercenary and dropping her into the belly of the beast in a party dress so...what? Her corpse looks pretty when they return a dead Jedi to us? This is beyond ill-advised, General. It's a foolhardy plan. How can you be sure it will work?"

“What do you have to lose if it doesn’t, Captain?” Rey said softly.

Poe froze, suddenly exposed. What could he say to her that wouldn't make things worse?  
  
"If you're caught, I shudder to think what the First Order might do to you to obtain information."

She shrugged, her gaze flat.  
  
“What could be worse than what I’ve already endured?”

Poe winced but kept going.  
  
"Any intelligence you have that the First Order can use will be taken from you forcefully—"  
  
"Oh come on, Poe," Leia interjected bitterly. "Even if she really was as much of a traitor as you say, there’s not much else she could tell the First Order except that the new base’s prison cells are extremely cold.”

Rey’s eyes slid shut, the exhaustion once again weighing heavy on her face.  
  
“All I want is the chance to bring him home, Poe. Please,” she whispered. Her brow furrowed as if her next words hurt her. “I know you don’t trust me, but I’m begging you. Just give me this chance.”

Poe sighed, dropping his head.  
  
_No more fighting,_ came Holdo’s voice from the back of his mind. _Time to put aside your pride._  
  
"You think this will work? This is what will get you in front of the Supreme Leader?"

“Yes.” She sounded so sure. So tired but so sure. He wondered how she still had the strength to be so certain in her convictions.

"Then I'll let you three plan out the details. Let me know what additional support you need from me. I'll get the slicers to start scanning the backchannels for Bazine Netal. General, you'll be paged when we locate her."  
  
He turned to leave the room, hesitated, and strolled over to the microphone one last time.  
  
"And Rey?”

She flicked her gaze back up to the glass, waiting.

Poe sighed.  
  
"Good luck. I really hope this works."

A tiny, sad smile tugged the corner of her mouth up.  
  
"Yeah," she murmured. "Me too."

The room was silent as Poe departed once more.  
  
"Alright," the General said. "Now that he's taken care of, Rey, Az, let's get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And my stomach is sick  
> And it's all in my head  
> But she's touching his chest now  
> He takes off her dress now  
> Let me go  
> And I just can't look, it's killing me  
> And taking control...
> 
> (sing it with me!)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Try to ignore me now, little one, let's see how you manage it. What are you so afraid of?_

The General had been very specific in her instructions: until Bazine had been contacted, Rey must return to her usual routine. But in that time, she would be pampered, restored.

The General had been gentle about her verbiage when explaining her plan, of course.

"Let's get you back into fighting shape. Well, dancing shape," she said playfully. "Back on your feet and rested. We’ll alter your diet to try to make up for any lost nutrition. And we will have to continue your exercise, as much as you probably hate it now. Do you think you can handle that?"

Rey had nodded, a faint spark in her eye that the General interpreted as determination. Maybe even hope.

"No combat practice, though, I'll assume?" Rey had asked quietly.

Leia chuckled. "I'll work on convincing Poe of that soon. But let's start with the fundamentals."

The first new tray of food arrived moments after Rey herself made it back to her room. The droids had departed, but before Rey could even meander her way to the bed the door reopened with her meal.

The food on the tray was still warm. It was, in Rey's best estimate, about three or four portions. Even when she had lived on base freely she had never taken that much for herself. The main plate was loaded with steaming sausages, thick gravies, and warm filled buns, her favorite. There was a mug of tea, a glass of blue milk, and another beautiful jogan fruit on the side. The room was flooded with the rich, indulgent scents, and traitorous hunger pains began to bite at Rey's sides.

Soon after the feast had arrived, a basket was delivered to the door. Pushing aside a fresh washcloth that lay on top, Rey found a pile of soaps, lotions, bandages, and serums, courtesy of the General. Rey vaguely recognized them from the vanity in her room on Canto Bight, ones that the chatty attendant droid... _what was its name?—W4! —_ had slathered all over Rey when she was preparing for the ball on Canto Bight. Rey snorted a little laugh, the reality of the plan beginning to set in.

Another ball. If she could get to Dwane, get through to him, she’d be presented in finery to Ben again.

She’d be at the First Order gala to _find Ben_. Her heart leaped at the thought, before it became ensnared in a web of doubt.

If. If. _If_. Too many uncertainties. It was too much, too unreal.

And in the dream she’d had...he’d been so _monstrous._

A creature in a mask. Strange how she hadn’t thought of him that way in so long. How could she, when she knew the face that hid behind chrome and blackened metal?

Soft, proud...beautiful.

Everything she wasn’t anymore.

She shook her head of tangled hair and her fingers tightened on the basket. Nothing would be accomplished by thinking like that. She had a job to do. A plan to set in motion,

Rey emptied the basket on the carpet, examining the items one by one. As she reached the bottom, she was surprised to discover one last object tucked into another folded washcloth: a small compact. She clawed it open carefully with her scraggly nails. A mirror.

The light glinted off the reflective surface and caught in the green flecks of her eyes. The first human eyes she had really seen in months. Her own hazel gaze stared accusingly back at her, gray as wet stone, brown as rusted metal, green as the rain-drenched forest of a faraway world, and she shut the little disc with a snap, her heart racing. It felt so...wrong now, to look into someone's eyes. Even her own. Too much exposed. Too much that could be taken from those eyes.

She gathered up her basket of treasures and skittered over to the small corner that housed the ‘fresher, leaving her haul just inside the curtain. She shucked the gray tunic and pants and tossed them onto her bed and, carefully avoiding the shard of sunlight about to cross her dirty bare feet, she stepped behind the threadbare curtain.

With the addition of her new toiletries, the sputtering trickle of cool water from the nozzle on the wall suddenly felt decadent and refreshing, and soon the little stall was full of the bright scents of citrus fruits, fresh-cut flowers, and the soothing sweetness of vanilla. By the time Rey had dried off with one of her soft new towels and rubbed her damply glowing skin with the contents of one of the General's bottles of lotion, she was almost starting to feel like a real person again. If she ignored the weight and tug of the Force-dampening binders against the bones of her wrists. The fabric over the doorway was shoved aside and she stopped dead in her tracks.

The sun had shifted while she washed. A pool of light blocked her way into the rest of her quarters. It seemed to be daring her to step through it.

_Try to ignore me now, little one, let's see how you manage it. What are you so afraid of?_

She exhaled in a shaky stream.

"It's just sunlight, Rey," she mumbled to herself. "It won't...it won't hurt you. You grew up in a desert. It's only the light..."

Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped fully into the light, bare and shimmering. She breathed slowly through her nose, keeping her eyes firmly shut, against what she wasn't entirely sure.

She stayed there, waiting, but for what?  What was she waiting for anymore? Another apparition? A voice to croon to her, to call her "beloved"?

The phrase had been playing over and over in her mind like a haunting drumbeat since she had first been taken prisoner by the Resistance, her own friends.

 _Was he worth it?_  
_  
_ Was he worth it?

The question flooded her mind, filled the room more than the silence could.

They’d had such precious few moments together. 

She didn’t have to be here. She could have given him away, told them everything. They would have taken him. She would have been safe.

She might still be able to tell them enough, tell them everything she knew about Kylo Ren. Maybe they’d let her out.

Was this, all this, the humiliation, the pain, the loneliness, the degradation...was it all worth it?

They’d had those moments in the Force, where hatred had turned into understanding, from understanding into empathy and trust.

That night on Canto Bight, it had become love, the affirming love that filled in the empty spaces in each of them. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, slept deeply, trusting in his protection, and he had not led her astray.

_Supreme Leader’s Whore._

Their intimacy had been so brief, but it had branded her. She had given him her whole heart and body out of love, and they had given her a new, hateful name because of it.

_Was he worth it?_

A few shared kisses in an alley, in the cabin, the cave.

Those brief caresses and she’d been reduced to this. Given up her life for him.

_Was he worth it?_

A filthy little scavenger sobbed in a felled AT-AT walker in the middle of the Jakku desert. That same scavenger curled up on the cold floor of a windowless cell. And somewhere between these moments, a mouth had learned her every dip and curve. Ears had listened to her moans, her heartbeat, her wanting gasps. A warmth enshrouded her, and the loneliness that had crowded her thoughts disappeared as if it had never existed at all.

But was _he_ worth it?

_Cyar’ika._

The water dripping off her body was cool, and the air around her thick with moisture.

She blinked, and before her were the cloudy skies of a Takodana rainstorm. The forest in the distance, the mud beneath her toes.

She shivered. She remembered this.

She turned around, glancing back at the rocky outcroppings that hid the cave entrance.

And there, leaning against the rock, his body yellowed with fading bruises, his broken leg still wrapped, Ben was waiting for her.

She exhaled, the air trembling as it slipped through her lips.

"This isn't real," she whispered. She couldn't look at him directly. If she did...gods, if she did...

What would she see reflected in those eyes, dark and rich as soil, burning hot as charcoal, where they lingered on her bare skin? Love? Despair? Resentment? If she had nothing left inside of her, what of their love could possibly be left in him after she pushed him away again?

Her gaze fixed on the raised bump on his collarbone. 

" _You_ aren't real," she said, a bit firmer this time.

"No?" he asked. She wasn't sure what she expected to hear, but it was his voice, low and husky, a hint of mirth in his tone.

"You're more than welcome to check," he purred. "Tell me what's wrong, cyar'ika."

She focused on the water tracing the curves of his muscles rather than meet his eyes. A phantom drop of rain trickled down the back of her neck and she shuddered again.

"You...you're not..." She paused as she swallowed around the lump of sorrow that had crystallized in her throat.

"You're not really here," she finished, a weak little sob amidst the quiet rush of rain against leaves. "No matter how much I wish you were."

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head away, tucking her chin against her shoulder.

"This is cruel, even for my own imagination."

"You saw the light. You thought of me," he said softly, then he offered her his hand. "If this isn't what you want, I can just as easily go."

"No _please_!" she cried out, starting forward, and she couldn't stop it, her eyes rose to meet his.

Ben was just as devastating in her addled imaginings as he had been in her softening memories. That gaze, gentle yet keenly observant. She knew that he could see right through her; his eyes sliced through the spaces between her ribs that had become so much deeper since he left, burned through the translucent skin beneath her own eyes that revealed her exhaustion, lingered on the raw rings that circled her wrists like bracelets of pain, peeking over the edge of the dampeners. He could see everything, all of the wretched things that she had become since Takodana. Shame burned bright and hot in her cheeks and at the base of her throat. She lowered her gaze down to the faint pink slice on his upper lip where his mask had split the skin. She couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes at the sight of her.

"Why are you here?" she asked quietly.

"I promised you that I would be here waiting for you. Only you know the real answer, but...I think you brought me here because you needed me," he said softly, returning his hand to his side.

She coughed a bitter little laugh.

"I'm a scavenger, a born sandrat, I've never needed anyone," she spat.

“That’s not true,” he said, sternly but not without compassion. “That’s never been true, and you know it. You can survive on your own, sure, but you know that surviving isn’t _living_.”

She curled her arms around herself again, clinging to the solidity of her bones beneath her skin. Her cuffs dug a little further into her flesh, grounding her awareness. This wasn’t real.

"I don't know how I could've done this. They...they took the Force from me. I can't even feel you."

She resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut so she wouldn't see the pity on his face. "You're right in front of me and I can't even feel you. Are you a ghost then?"

"Try shooting me,” he said with a shadow of a laugh. “That's your normal way of checking, right?"

She nearly buckled at the gentle jab. It was almost too much. It seemed so normal, so ordinary as if they had never been parted. As if she hadn't shattered beyond repair. It bit at her soul, or what was left of it.

Again, she turned her face away. She was loath to let him see her constant weeping, her unfailing weakness.

"You're not here," she whispered. "Even if you were, you wouldn't want me. Not as I am."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked. "You think I wouldn't want you now?"

"There is nothing left of me to want! _Look at me!_ " she burst out, flinging her arms out wide. Her traitorous tears slipped again down her face, stinging salt water cutting against freshly scrubbed cheeks. Her chest heaved as she fought down her sobs, wrenching painfully inside of her ribs.

"I see you," he said gravely. "And I see nothing but the woman I love."

She took a stumbling step back, toward the edge of the light where the shadows threatened to cross her feet.

“The woman you love is dead.” Her voice was a harsh, hoarse whisper. “She was weak and foolish and she loved too easily and it killed her. There’s nothing left of her but me: her ghost.”

The vision of Ben seemed to falter, and the wounded man standing expectantly in the rain seemed to flicker from vision.

She met his warm brown eyes one more time.

"I know that's not true," he said solemnly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“But I don’t,” she replied quietly, simply, and retreated into the darkness behind her.

The world shifted around her and the gravity of it forced her to her knees as if she’d been pushed. She squeezed her arms around her ribs while she shook violently as it all left her. The forest, the rain, Ben.

Once again she was alone, emptier and colder than before.

She knew it hadn’t been a Force vision. She hadn’t felt Ben. It was a memory, cruel and contorted and mocking. Her own mind breaking into madness in the harsh light of the sun. Without the shadows to hide in, she couldn’t escape the fractures in her sanity; the angry fissures that let the pain of loss bubble up and overwhelm her. 

Loving Ben had never been simple. There was nothing easy or ordinary about their relationship. It was a love born of shared understanding, hardwon trust, battles fought side by side, light and darkness coexisting. Yet despite all of this, it had never been painful to love him. Only to lose him.

This agony was visceral, consuming, and far beyond the ache that had been her close companion these months. She was emptied out, a husk of a woman. She had nothing left to cling to, for it had all been ripped from her grasp. She was a scavenger; she loved selfishly, she hid the things she cared about so that no one could take them from her. And now her greatest fears had come to pass: she was alone again.

She didn’t need Ben. She didn’t need to protect him still. But whether or not he was worth it, the Force had brought them together, and she had willingly bound herself to him.

She was suffering for that choice.

Now a new question plagued her mind as she curled up into a ball on the floor, her arms wrapped tight around herself.

Would it be worth it to bring him back?

_Bring home Ben Solo, or kill Kylo Ren._

That’s what Leia had told her. The crux of this mad plan of hers. If she couldn’t convince Ben to come back to the Light, she would have to kill him. Her stomach rebelled at the very idea, and Rey nearly lost the food that had been sent to fortify her. Still so weak...

Her fingers curled into the skin of her back, digging against her rib cage, the cuffs bit painfully into her sides with every breath.

Was _she_ enough to bring him home?

She hadn’t been enough on the _Supremacy_. She hadn’t been enough on Crait. Or on Canto Bight. Or, it would seem, on Takodana. He had escaped the planet and gone straight back to the cold embrace of the First Order. Nothing had changed.

Was this worth it? A calculated risk or an insane gamble?

If she somehow managed to convince him to come back to the Light, who was to say that she was enough to keep him there? She was changed; bleeding and healing badly. She wasn’t the vision he had fallen in love with on Canto Bight, and she wasn’t the woman he had made beautiful, broken love to in the forest.

She was nothing. How arrogant to think that she could bring him back.

And if she couldn’t…

Her fingers dug tighter into her flesh, enough to bruise the delicate skin.

Poe’s voice twined with Leia’s in a monstrous harmony.

_He's a murderer. A monster. He can't love. He preyed on you and made you believe that to get you to let him live._

If he wouldn’t come with her, she would have to kill him. 

Her mind raced over those sun-sweetened moments between her and Ben. She watched as clouds, dark and bruise-like, blotted out the kindness, the tenderness, the joy. Instead, she saw the fights, the tension, the heartache deeper beneath the surface.

_Kill Kylo Ren, or save Ben Solo._

_Kill Kylo Ren, save Ben Solo._

_Kill Kylo Ren._

_Kill Kylo Ren._

The voices in her mind were chanting the command furiously, but a small voice, a familiar one, broke through.

_Cyar’ika?_

_Kill Kylo Ren._

_Kill Kylo Ren._

**_Kill Kylo Ren._ **

Her eyes snapped open, the sunlight still leering down at her.

_**No.** _

She looked up at the window, at the setting sun retreating across the sky.

No. Killing Ben Solo, Kylo Ren, her lover, her balance, her home, was never an option. Never.

His life was not hers to take, and she had plenty of chances in the past. She would not take it now, even if her own life depended on it. Even if she couldn’t draw him out of the Supreme Leader’s skin, if he showed her nothing but the same contempt she had witnessed in the Resistance, she could not kill him.

She would bring back Ben, her Ben, or never return. She’d rather die at the command of the First Order, welcome death at her lover’s hand, than live another day here.

On shaking legs she rose, defiant in the sunlight.

It didn’t matter if she was beautiful enough to win him back to the light. It didn’t matter if he was worth her life. It mattered only that the Force had knit them together, for whatever it was worth. And she was prepared to see it to the end, even if it meant her life.

Ben Solo would see the light again one day, with or without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally the saddest shampoo commercial in history.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Threats don't work on people who have nothing left to lose, Captain."

"Lady Tasolis," the flickering blue projection intoned. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Emfor and Aytar had roused Rey from her sleep far too early in the morning when word had come down the line that the slicers had successfully contacted the mercenary, and time was of the essence. With the General temporarily occupied off-world with other business, Poe was left in charge. He had barked a few instructions at her before the holocall began, and now stood against the wall, well out of range of Rey's holorecorder, but close enough to remind her that she was on a mission and was being monitored. One misstep could make this worse for her.

She schooled her face in one of haughty coolness, firming her shoulders and lifting her chin. She gave a little smirk, thankful that the mercenary couldn’t see her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. 

“Thank you for your time, Bazine,” she said smoothly. “You know I wouldn’t have called unless I was in dire straits and in desperate need of...” She rolled her eyes coquettishly. “Competent help.”

"Please, continue with the compliments if you wish, I adore them, but do get on with the nature of your business. I'm certain it's extremely important but so is my time, as you must understand," Bazine said, a pixelated quirk of her eyebrow all that betrayed her affected boredom.

Rey nodded a bit sardonically. In truth, this was the most she had carried a conversation not related to her past with Ben in months. She wanted a real person to talk to. 

“Naturally,” she replied. “Well, as I’m sure you recall from several months ago, I am a...particular friend of the Supreme Leader.” She suppressed her shudder at the title with admirable ease. “And I had heard through the holos that he has returned to his power after that dreadful business with those _rebel scum_.”

She could feel Poe bristling behind her. Let the prick simmer. He’d more than earned a jab of his own and she needed to make this convincing. 

“Now imagine my surprise to find that there was to be a celebration in his honor and my invitation seems to have disappeared into the HoloNet.” She pouted. “So I need your help to get in and I can’t trust _anyone_ else to get the job done.”

"If you are taking jilted lovers' revenge out on the Supreme Leader, I assure you, you might not have the credits to afford my services in that regard," Bazine replied, gazing boredly at her slender, gloved fingers. "If you're looking for a slicer to get you on that guest list, I can recommend someone to you for a small finder's fee."

She turned her gaze back on Rey. "But you sought me out in particular. What exact service are you requesting of me, Lady Viré?"

Rey’s lip curled up at the corner, looking rather like a jungle cat with her prey in sight. 

“I never did figure out what the Supreme Leader paid you for kidnapping me. Perhaps I can get a discount as a former target of your...talents.”

"Kidnapping is not my usual business, as I don't usually enjoy leaving my targets alive, but in your case, I made an exception, and I might continue to do so, as you were so amiable a mark," Bazine said teasingly. "And who is your intended?"

Rey grinned broadly then, a feral glinting of sharp teeth that hid a desert behind it. 

“Dwane Soruta, Coruscanti real estate darling and consummate scumbag,” she purred.

Bazine stared at Rey for a second, then threw her head back and laughed, a surprisingly musical, tinkling giggle.

"Soruta? That rat? Oh, child, I would do this for free if I didn't have to eat. His family's dealings have earned him few friends among my circles.”

Bazine grinned, a sharp smirk as malicious as Rey's own. "I will do it with great relish. What exactly do you want me to do with him, and how viciously?"

Rey huffed a bored sigh, rolling her eyes. "Sadly, I need him in one piece. He's going to be my escort to this soiree, whether he knows it or not.” 

“I like where this is going,” Bazine purred. “Though it sounds like you’re asking me to bring _you_ to _him_. Far be it from me to let technicalities ruin a good time, but you’re asking for delivery more than kidnapping.” 

“That would be the long and the short of it, yes. I trust that you’d be amenable to this deal? In spite of its lack of bloodshed.”

Rey sighed again, more despondently this time. “Really at this point, I’m at a loss. I didn’t know who else I could turn to for help.”

She wasn’t lying and it felt good to remove that heavy little pebble from her pocket. She continued.

“I’m concerned that if I just appeared out of the ether, he’d get suspicious of my motives, which are _entirely_ honorable, I assure you. I just need an outside party to convince him to let me in the door. That’s where you would come in. Do whatever you have to in order to get me into the room with him, and I’ll take it from there.”

She shrugged. “It’s easy money.”

“‘Get you in the room.’ Any room in particular? Describe the setting of our play, my dear director, and I will call the actors to their places.”

Rey smirked. “I need him alone. Nothing is going to happen between us, but he doesn’t need to know that. I’ll let him think that he’s won his prize.”

Lady Viré had come out in full force for this interlude, and Rey, bruised and tired, was more than happy to sit back and watch the proceedings.

“And once I’ve got him begging to escort me to the First Order’s doorstep…”

“...I shall run extraction, yes?”

A staticky cackle erupted from the holoreciever. 

"I remember why I liked you," Bazine laughed. "You can't put yourself together for more than a few hours at a time, but I like you, Lady. I will assume that you are capable of dressing yourself for this occasion?"

"Oh not to worry, I'm fully prepared this time. You caught me at an...odd chapter of my life when last we met." 

Her smile softened then. "I don't know if I ever thanked you properly for that dress. I'd never felt more beautiful than I did that night." She hoped the mercenary could hear the sincerity in her voice; despite her present act, she meant every word. 

"Now, Bazine, what will I owe you for this kindness?"

"You flatter me too much, my Lady. Send me our desired meeting coordinates and I will send you my rates. I assume you want this to happen as close to the event as possible?"

"Please. I will have the information to you within the hour."

"As you say, my Lady." Bazine smirked, then her gaze softened as it danced across Rey. "Get some rest and we will meet soon. We will make sure that Lord Ren regrets not inviting you."

"Bazine, you're a treasure. I'll be in touch.”

She ended the transmission and exhaled loudly in the sudden quiet of the room.

"She seems friendly," Poe remarked dryly.

"Oh switch off, Poe," she grumbled.

He sighed, clearly straining against the desire to roll his eyes. 

"I'll let you know later what the next steps are. You're free to go."

Her eyebrow rose. "Oh am I? I was not aware that _you_ were suddenly running this operation."

Poe bristled. 

"I'm in charge as far as you're concerned." 

With Leia off-world and Azwe finally resting after many sleepless nights of tirelessly working with the slicers to contact Bazine, he was the only one at the helm of the investigation who could oversee Rey’s interview with the mercenary. The contrast between this Rey and the Rey he had seen in prior interrogations was stark. Here, she was composed, sharp. Before...

He tried to stifle the guilt he felt when he remembered Rey’s empty eyes, her cold and lifeless voice barely choking out words through her tears. No luck. The guilt had become his only company of late.

He had tried to talk to Finn and Rose again, tried to draw their attention to everything but Rey and the investigation, but they regarded him coldly, suspiciously, and he soon gave them their space.

He had tried to convince himself he had done the right thing, but even he wasn’t sure his methods had been correct.

Maybe he should have just given her this option sooner. Maybe things would be less grim now. 

Maybe he would sleep better, without the memory of Holdo’s voice mocking him constantly.

_Some leader, huh?_

He stepped in closer to her, bridging the vast distance that had been between them. She had to fight the urge to back away. Her heart told her that this was still Poe, still the friend that she had grown to love like a brother. The weight of the dampener cuffs on her wrists told a different story. Her brain couldn’t decide what to believe; it was still marveling at the sudden proximity to another person. It occurred to her, with a pang, that this was the closest she had been to another living being since her imprisonment, the first time she had seen a face that wasn’t sketched from the remnants of her fractured memories. Her hand twitched unbidden toward his arm, frightened for a moment that this was another hallucination and that her fingers would meet nothing but stagnant air.  

"We're giving you this chance to save yourself and Kylo Ren. Don't make us regret it."

She dropped her hand, unnoticed, back to her side. 

Part of her wanted to bend under his prickling temper. Another part, the part that had been fed over the last few days by anger and resentment and new-found freedom, the part that had flourished in the desert, snarled and snapped within her.

She got up close to his face, eyes narrowing in a challenge, but careful not to meet his for longer than a flicker.

"Threats don't work on people who have nothing left to lose, Captain. Remember that _you_ were the one who took everything from me the next time you try to threaten me," she growled.

"I didn't take anything from you, Rey," he snapped, stare meeting hers. "You gave everything away for Kylo Ren. Or have you forgotten?"

A low rumble gathered in her chest and blossomed out from her center as her eyes flashed steely silver up at him.

She was angry now. She remembered the last time she had been angry. Kylo Ren's crackling sword of bloody light had roared in her hands and her own screams of rage echoed in her veins now. She wanted to fight, she wanted to claw and rend and make them bleed for what had been done to her. For the position she was in. The anger felt _so_ much better than the sorrow had. Anger, at least, burned. It seared away the quiet cold of despair and made her feel alive, scorched where she had been hollow before. 

Kylo Ren, she realized, had gotten something right. Rage was a power far more enticing than serenity. She had had enough of the high road. She wanted to get her hands dirty again. 

"How can I forget?" she hissed. "You stole months of my life. Those memories were all I had left in the hole. And then you poisoned them. Tore away the last scraps of my humanity with isolation and interrogations and windowless rooms, and now you expect me to lick your boots?" 

Her teeth snapped together, snarling like a rabid dog. "I am what you've made me, Poe Dameron. Reap what you sow."

She whirled and made to storm away toward the door.

"And you can _choke_ on your fucking regrets!" she shouted without looking back.

Poe took a few steps forward and tapped her binders with a mag key, causing her wrists to lock together abruptly in front of her.

"My only regret," he snapped "was listening to you in the first place. I trusted you at your word as a friend and you threw it back at me.”

She turned on him with a face blazing with rage.

" _YOU SWORE THAT YOU WOULD NEVER LET ME BE ALONE AGAIN_ !" she roared. "Our friendship didn't matter enough to stop you from throwing me into a pit and locking the door! I _know_ that isn't how prisoners are treated in the Resistance." 

She stalked toward him, and he knew instinctively that if those binders weren't working at full capacity, she would have him pinned to the wall with a fraction of a thought.

"No, you _wanted_ to hurt me. You wanted to make me suffer. You could've just imprisoned me, put me in binders. I wouldn't have tried to escape; I know what I did. You could've had your trial, and I wouldn't have tried to stop you." As she spoke she stepped closer and closer to him, her voice low and steady. "But no, you isolated me. Made sure that I didn't come into any contact with another sentient life form for _months_ . You were cruel." 

Now she was directly in front of him, looking into his face with unconcealed pain. Let him have it. Let him drown in it.

"I know you to be many things, Poe, but cruel was never one of them."

"You're too dangerous!” he shouted. "Knowing that you were in contact with Kylo Ren—closely communicating with him, intimately familiar with his methods, his mind..."

Rey saw for the first time a spark of fear in Poe's eyes, and his tone softened to a manic whisper.

"I know how he tortured me. The pain he inflicted on me bodily, as he tore through my mind for every secret he wanted, ripping through my head...I saw him fight Luke on Crait, how he tried to mow him down like a predator. I know what he can do, and that scares me enough. But you...we’re still just starting to learn what you're capable of. The lengths you went to hide him, the way you lied to me, it made me believe...it made me believe you couldn't be trusted to do the things you said. So I treated you as I would have treated him.”

The weight of his words hit her like a heavy stone. He had put her away, kept her bound, locked up and isolated. Like a feral animal. He had treated her like an animal because that was how he saw Ben: inhuman, monstrous. 

That was how he saw her. 

Not as a friend, not even as a person, but as a wild beast. She hated him for it. But she hated herself even more for becoming exactly what he had made her out to be.

“You were too close to him,” Poe continued, his voice straining with suppressed anger. “You were becoming too much like him."

"How am I like him?" Her voice was quiet and deceptively calm. 

"You're powerful. Unpredictable. Manipulative. Destructive," he spat each word out, a series of challenges. "And if you are willing to harbor and even love Kylo Ren knowing what he’s capable of, you aren't who I thought you were. You're a threat."

She didn't falter, instead leaning forward to get even closer to his reddening face. 

"I always have been," she returned venomously. "How else do you think I survived Jakku on my own for fifteen years?"

Her eyes narrowed into a searing glare, staring easily right through him as her voice dropped to a low growl. 

"No...no, I'm exactly who I have always been. It just burns you that you can't control that power. You _want_ that power. You feel so inadequate, so... _small_ , in the midst of this war of gods and sovereigns. So you brand me 'whore' and lock me away until I'm soft and compliant for you." 

She leaned back with a scoff. "Take the binders off, Captain. See what kind of a threat I can _really_ be."

He considered her in silence. She was so slight, still so frail, but her form was poised for attack. 

Regrets. He knew he was the only one in that room who harbored any, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit to them. He could only dig in deeper. 

He turned on the defensive.

"No, I'm trying to protect others from you. You might welcome that monster into your head and your bed, but I wouldn't wish that torture on anyone,” he sneered, his contempt for the Supreme Leader barely disguised. “I would do anything to protect my friends. I only wished you had done the same."

"Well then here's hoping that this mission goes tits up so you won't have to put up with me for much longer. And you and your real friends can get on with your lives."

Rey expected a fiery retort, but she was almost shocked that Poe just stood silently for a moment, regarding her.

"I want this mission to succeed,” Poe countered quietly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Success only hinges on whether Ben Solo escapes or Kylo Ren dies,” she said flatly. “My survival is not one of those conditions.”

"Success hinges on you alone, Rey. Your abilities, your power...I want you to be successful in whatever form that takes. This could shift the war. This could end it."

Poe seemed wistful for a second. If there was a galaxy without war for him to thrive in, Rey could scarcely imagine it. 

"What you choose to do will shape your future in the galaxy. I want you to survive. I want you to prove me wrong. We will do everything in our power to help you. But you have to know what you did...you didn't just betray a cause, an imaginary ideal. You hurt the people who cared about you, who loved you from the moment you entered our ranks. It shook the Resistance, all of us, to the core. And that is harder to undo."

She took a deep breath, and let his words sink past the fire in her heart, chilling her insides back to that cold familiar guilt. She swallowed down fresh tears that threatened to bubble up.

“I wish that what I did hadn’t hurt anyone, Poe,” she mumbled. “Truly. Think what you want about me, but I never meant or wanted to hurt you, any of you. You’re good people.” 

She shrugged. 

“Maybe I’m just not. All I know is that I did what I felt was right.”

She sighed, deflating some.   
“I’m just not sure of anything anymore.”

"You...you're not bad, Rey. Really," he said softly. “I believe you. I believe you weren’t trying to harm your friends. But that’s why I want you to prove yourself, show everyone you mean it.”

In his heart, once he dug past the hurt and bitterness, Poe knew that Rey wasn’t half the monster that Kylo Ren was. He knew solitary confinement in a remote cell was honestly far too severe a punishment; left alone, Rey would probably have been as docile as a Loth-cat in a basket. But he didn’t want the monster in his head again; he couldn’t risk Rey battling her way out like Ren would have in her position. He wanted to keep his friends safe, even if it was from someone he once cared about. 

"You only have to be sure of one thing: are you going to be okay going through with this?"

Rey exhaled slowly. 

“I don’t know if I will ever be okay again. But I don’t care. As long as I can get him out. That’s all that matters to me.”

Poe was at a loss for words. He nodded solemnly.

"Then I hope you achieve that," he stammered after a moment. 

The awkwardness hung in the air between them before Poe said finally, "Good luck with everything."

She gave him a small grimace of a smile, but her eyes softened on her former friend. 

“Thank you, Poe.”

He nodded slowly, almost reverently, before he opened the door and strolled out the hall, sending Emfor and Aytar in behind him.

Her wrists sprang apart and she rolled her shoulders absently, easing the slight ache that had set in during the conversation. She watched Poe walk away with sadness in her eyes. 

“Mistress? Are you ready?” chirped M4. 

“Hm? Oh, yes.”

She offered her hands but the droids shook their heads. 

“Not necessary, Mistress Rey,” said 8R. “New orders.”

She stumbled a bit, unsure of how to react to this development. So she simply nodded and fell into pace between her guards as they wended their way down familiar sandy halls.

  


The day arrived, but not without prelude.

The sumptuous portions of food had continued to arrive for days, along with fresh towels, lotions, and bandages and salve for the damaged skin under her binders.

The droids summoned her more and more often for exercise, with her daily walks increasing in both number and duration, the distance between her and guards growing all the while.

The whispers grew in the corridors; unseen, hateful lips spat venom when Rey couldn’t see, but her body was growing stronger again, even if her spirit wasn’t as resilient.

Finally, an evening came when she was taken off the course of her usual exercise route to a large, empty room. Aytar walked to the corner, returned, and handed Rey a wooden pole, a broomstick that had lost its head.

“If you’re telling me I have to clean this room, I want you to know that it will be nearly impossible with this.”

The droids exchanged pointed looks.

“You are invited to train again, Mistress,” Emfor announced.

She couldn’t conceal her disbelief. “I...I am?”

“Yes, Mistress. The General has suggested that you should be in good form for the gala, should something go awry. Our records indicate that you are a capable fighter with a staff, although your specific weapon could not be located. We hope that this long stick will be satisfactory.”

“Please, Mistress, remember our service, and know that if you choose to retaliate against us, transceivers will be notified that we have been damaged,” Aytar added, demonstrating little confidence. 

“As if I’d ever try to beat you two up,” she quipped with feigned cheer. 

Rey twirled the broom handle in her hands, a little clumsier after months without a weapon. She was also having a slight issue with flexibility with the added weight and bulk of the dampener cuffs on her arms. That might be a problem if she did need to fight her way out. She wasn’t in peak condition, and she wouldn’t be before the infiltration. Nothing for it. She just breathed and stumbled through some familiar forms. 

After a scant few hours of practice, the forms became easier and she had worked up a decent sweat. Stars, but it felt good to _move_ again. Really move. Muscles that hadn’t seen proper use in ages flared back to life and parts of her brain that had gone dormant sparked awake. 

It felt good to ache again. The burn of air in her lungs was a sweet and familiar sting, and her face broke into a grin as she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She felt almost alive again. 

That smile was still haunting the corners of her mouth when her small entourage turned the corner towards her cell, broomstick still in hand. An unfamiliar figure leaned against the doorway, a tall, fair-colored Togruta. 

Rey’s skin buzzed and her gaze flicked down, suddenly feeling inexplicably exposed, unsafe, under the gaze of the stranger blocking her from her cell. 

However, she recognized her strange visitor as soon as she spoke.

“Rey, it’s time,” said the voice of Azwe Di, unmarred by the tinny quality of an interrogation room’s mic. Her expression was carefully neutral, though her golden eyes glowed with something like excitement. 

It took Rey a long moment to breathe through the sudden burst of anxiety and actually hear the words that had come out of the Togruta’s full lips.

“Okay...I guess I’ll just get my things then...”

Her fingers tightened around her staff and dread, cold and slimy, sent a chill skittering over her damp skin. This was it. No going back from here. She nodded resolutely and made to push past Azwe.

“No, you don’t understand, Rey. Ship’s being prepped. The General has been notified. We have a few soldiers assigned to your guard…” She trailed off looking at Rey. “We have to _go_. Now.”

Rey swallowed thickly, casting a glance back at her door, the remnants of red paint still flaky on its surface. She shivered.

No coming back.

“Right. Let’s go.”

  


After endless weaving through the rocky corridors, Rey, the interrogator, and the droids arrived at a turbolift, which took them up to the highest levels of the bizarre stone fortress, which contained the hangar bay. Rey realized that despite her exercise wandering the endless halls of the lower portion of the base this was the highest up she’d been in the countless days she’d been locked away. 

“How high does this go?” Rey asked quietly.

Azwe was quiet for a moment before speaking. “This base was carved into a mountain ages ago, although the landscape was somewhat...altered when the Empire used the planet for a Death Star weapons test. We’re at the edge of a crater,” she said softly. “Your cell was below the original ground level.”

Rey had only heard legends of the Death Star’s destructive capabilities, and here was made plain the extent of it. From this high, she could see just some of the expansive crater carved into the world’s surface. The rest was obscured in the late-afternoon shadows. She shivered as she gazed over the landscape.

This was the Empire’s doing, she reminded herself. Not the First Order.

But she wasn’t fooling herself; she had been on Starkiller. They had attempted to do more of the same, _had_ done more of the same.

But she knew his mind. Ben wouldn’t do something like this. He wouldn’t gut whole worlds, slaughter entire populations for political gain. 

_He might_ , a quiet doubt whispered in her mind. _Backed into a corner, he just might._ _And that’s what they’re all so afraid of._

She turned away from the view of the canyon and faced the doors for the rest of the ride.

Rey and her entourage stepped off the turbolift and she almost froze in her tracks at the sight before her.

Finn.

He was propped up against the hull of a small, sleek shuttle, his arms crossed over his chest as he talked with a Sullustan pilot she didn’t recognize. He’d let his hair grow out, probably having missed several haircuts since she’d actually seen him last. He looked handsome, confident, surer of himself and his place in the galaxy than the nervous young man who had taken her hand in Niima Outpost. He was a leader now.

“Rey?” came Azwe’s voice from up ahead.

Rey startled; she hadn’t realized that she had, in fact, stopped dead in the middle of the hangar bay floor. She dropped her makeshift staff in surprise and it clattered to the floor.

Instantly, every eye in the hangar was on her, including Finn’s. She felt each stare like points of pressure against her skin. They were leering enough to bruise, and she couldn’t escape the scrutiny. Stars, she wanted to run, run back to her room, back to the forest, back to her AT-AT, back where it was safe and—

“Rey, we have to go now,” said Azwe gently inclining her head to meet Rey’s stare directly, “You're in good hands. The General and I carefully selected everyone on this mission. None of them mean you any ill will.”

A cool, smooth hand perched between Rey’s shoulder blades and she lurched forward to escape the sickening feeling. She knew that Azwe had no idea, but she couldn’t even bear the weight of a slight touch anymore.

Rey’s eyes stayed fixed to the ground, but she could still feel Finn’s awareness trained solely on her. What could he see from looking at her? What was she telling him without words, without her knowledge? Could he see how much the weight of his watchful gaze hurt her? Could he see how weak she had become? 

She had changed too since he took her hand at the old outpost. She had withered as he had grown. He was truly part of the Resistance now; her betrayal had hurt him, probably more than she realized. When he looked at her, did he see the friend he had lost or the enemy he had gained?

She nearly ran the rest of the way to the shuttle, trying her best to ignore the blank look that Finn had on his face.   
  
  
Rey often looked forward to watching the worlds vanish beneath her ship as she traveled, a reminder of how far away from Jakku she’d gotten. But this time, with her guards staring boredly around the ship, occasionally shooting glances at her, she could only stare at her hands. 

An unwelcome voice echoed in her memory.

_I think Captain Ræh would be proud of you. You made it off that rock,_ Ben had said fondly. _You’ve accomplished so much._

Rey thought back to the little wire doll back inside her room—not room, cell—at the base. In their haste to leave, she hadn’t been able to grab anything from the cell. She’d left Captain Ræh behind again. Though it wasn’t in her own hands to determine whether or not she’d be able to return to her little friend, she had already determined that wherever she was headed, she was not coming back.

_Would you think that now, Ben?_ she thought bitterly. _Would you be proud of me if you knew what I’ve become? If you knew what I had to do?_

As soon as they cleared the atmosphere, Rey asked for permission to retreat to the refresher, her droids trailing her eagerly until she shut the door on them.

She slid down against the door, clutching her new clothes to her chest, and released a deep, soul-shaking sigh. 

The shuttle only had a sonic, but who was she to be choosy? She quickly stripped and stood naked in the little stall, her eyes squeezed tightly shut against the high-pitched hum that engulfed her. She hated sonics; it felt just a bit too close to being sandblasted back on Jakku. And nothing made her feel quite as clean as a real water bath. 

_Will I ever really feel clean again?_ she wondered. 

The timed cycle clicked twice before shutting off, leaving her shivering in the stall. She dressed in the new clothes--a pair of soft gray trousers and a matching tunic made of thick wool--with perfunctory attention and slipped back out into the main hold.

When Rey had settled back in, Azwe began to lay out the plan.

“We are en route now to Kuat. Bazine arranged a rendezvous with Soruta on neutral ground, though apparently in coordinating with him, she uncovered a snag.”

“What kind of snag?” Rey asked.

“Soruta, in conversing with ‘Lady Viré’s assistant,’ confided that he had no desire to attend the Supreme Leader’s gala.”

“Shit,” hissed one of the human guards. “Great, so this ‘easy escort job’ might have a body count? Kriffin’ perfect.”

“Cool it, Jai’cen.” 

Rey’s eyes flicked up.

“He just said he didn’t want to go. It’s not the worst hiccup we’ve ever had. Last thing we need is bad attitudes on this mission,” said Finn, his voice low and authoritative. 

Azwe gave him a slight, grateful nod, then continued. 

“Soruta still agreed to meet with Viré, so he is coming willingly, which puts us at an advantage.  We are on neutral ground, so it will be easier to corner him without his full security team. That’s the extent of what we know. Rey, what is your plan, and what do you need from us?”

Rey looked down at her hands where they sat clenched in her lap, her mind racing with the new information. The wide sleeves of her tunic hid the bulky dampener cuffs that bound her wrists, but she could still see the faint glow of the activation lights ringing the bottom edge.

“When we get into the room, take the cuffs off.” Her voice was suddenly very small in the ambient noise of flight. “I can...I can try to use the Force on him.”

“How?” Azwe asked gently.

“I’d use a version of the Jedi mind trick. Change his mind. Literally.”

She twisted her fingers together nervously. Could she even pull it off? It had been months since she had been cut off from the Force, could she expect it to obey her now? 

“Is that even real?” Jai’cen whispered to Finn. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“Okay, you think you can do that?” Azwe asked, her brow furrowing in concern. “What can we do to help you?”

“Just...don’t touch me.”

Azwe raised her brows but understanding flashed in her amber eyes. “...Okay. Anything else?”

Rey shook her head. “No. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

“What’s our fallback?” Jai’cen interjected. “If the Jedi mind-whatever doesn’t work, what’s our next step?”

“You get her out of there. You all get out of there. We have the hotel blueprints. You should be able to figure out an escape if things go wrong; I have full confidence in you for that. This isn’t your first mission,” Azwe stated, casting a pointed look at Jai’cen. 

She continued. “If the plan works—and knowing Rey, it will—you will extract Soruta and bring him into Resistance holding until the gala, where Rey will use him to gain admission. But all that will come in good time. For now, get your heads in the right space. You’re going to need to practice your sabaac faces for when we meet with Bazine and Dwane. After all, we’re partnering with a mercenary to kidnap a real estate heir.”

A cocky smirk tweaked her lips. “Time to bring your A-game.”

She looked towards the cockpit briefly. 

“We’ll be arriving shortly. I’m going to touch base with Bazine one more time and let her know. She’ll be meeting us at the landing pad.”

Azwe hesitated. She made eye contact with Rey.

“The Force will be with us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STAR WARS FUN FACT: 
> 
> Poe Dameron, a human male born 2 ABY on Yavin 4, has been threatened with testicular trauma in the comment section of every chapter of this fic in which he has appeared!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My Lady, are you quite well?”

Rey’s breaths were short, shallow. Doubt shook her to the core.

_ Will the Force even come back? Can I still control it? _

As their shuttle had touched down and they prepared to disembark, Azwe’s fingers had hovered awkwardly over Rey’s wrists, considering the binders.

“Rey, you have to know these men are here to help you with your mission. If you choose to use the Force against them after the binders come off…”

“They’ll shoot me, yeah, I got it,” she mumbled. 

She cast a glance at her security detail. “You don’t have to worry about me going off. The mission means too much to jeopardize it.”

She hadn’t missed the way that Jai’cen blanched and swallowed heavily. She had seen a muscle in Finn’s jaw tick and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Azwe nodded jerkily and shot her a sharp look. She proffered the key to Rey’s binders.

“Is that alright with you guys?” she asked Finn and Jai’cen softly.

They both nodded, and Jai’cen had added, “As long as I don’t have to be the one to do it.”

Rey hadn’t missed the dark glare Finn cast to his comrade as he accepted the mag key from the Togruta.

“You can take them off when you get to the building. Use your best judgment,” Azwe said, meeting Finn’s gaze. She handed each of them a small comm link. Rey shoved hers

into her pocket. “I’ll be waiting here listening in on the comm channel if anything goes wrong.”

“Thank you, Azwe,” Rey had said sincerely. “We’ll get him.”

_ It has to work. It has to. _

“Ready?” Finn whispered gently.

Rey didn’t trust herself to speak now, so she nodded stiffly.

They were greeted on the landing pad by a sauntering Bazine, who lazily waved them towards the service entrance to the hotel and through a small hallway. She wore a pair of coveralls over her usual baffleweave suit and an unassuming headscarf, a costume so lazy she was almost bragging.

The air was uncomfortably stiff as Rey, Finn, and Jai’cen followed Bazine into the turbolift that went directly to the penthouse after she proudly assured them she had taken pains to clear out most of the hotel hours prior.

“Dwane Soruta got settled in soon after he arrived. If I know him—and I do, more than I would like— he has his robe and slippers on, brandy in hand, and expects to have a...relaxing night in with his date,” she’d told them, barely suppressing a vengeful laugh. “He has no idea what’s coming.”

However, the others didn’t share her state of ease. 

The turbolift whooshed quietly up and up and up. Rey could almost feel the gravity shifting around her. Instinctively she knew no one would come out of this encounter the same way they walked in.

Her least of all.

Her heart hammered a furtive rhythm. She could barely think, barely breathe.

Ten more floors.

Finn’s hands, warm and rough with calluses, rested on her wrists as the lift incrementally slowed, his thumbs lingering just over her pulse. He caught her eyes and held onto her gaze, and she could see the first friend she had ever had behind the leader he had grown into.

Five more floors.

“It’ll be okay,” he mumbled, pulling the mag key out of his pocket. “You got this.”

“Ready?” Bazine asked. 

One floor.

The cuffs beeped and fell off with a click.

Rey staggered with a gasp as the Force, sharp and colorful and aching, rushed back into her senses. It was instantly too much, too loud, too fast, too bright. She was momentarily blind and deaf and mute and—

Finn grabbed her arm and called her name, but he could have been a hundred klicks off for all she could tell. She felt his hand on her arm like a brand and his signature buffeted her with waves of concern and fear. She could feel Jai’cen behind her, terror and distrust slithering along her spine in cold trickles as he watched his commander and his charge from the back of the lift. She could feel Bazine at her other side, a bizarre cocktail of curiosity and understanding with a touch of amusement coloring the air around her slim figure.

_ No, no, no, I shouldn’t be here, I can’t do this I can’t do this, stars help me… _ _   
_

“My Lady, are you quite well?”

The lift doors opened and the galaxy came back into focus.   


A dark figure broke through the wall of Force sensations and into her sight. Dwane Soruta rushed towards the turbolift as the group lingered past the open doors.   


“Apologies, the Lady appears to be somewhat overcome, sir,” Bazine said with a grating sweetness. She dug her claw-like nails into Rey’s other arm. Rey could barely register the slight prick of pain. 

She felt too many emotions, none of them her own.   


Somewhere on this planet, there was an angry child, Darkness welling in him.   


Somewhere in this building, there was great sorrow calling to her.   


She felt dread, fear, concern surrounding her. 

And ahead of her, Dwane.   


She hated him. But stars, how she needed him now. 

_ Do it for Ben.  _   


She couldn’t think about him. Couldn’t let him in when she needed her senses sharp. She needed to feel nothing at all. It was the only way.   


She swallowed, trying to clear her mind and throat in the one action. 

Viré smiled back at Soruta.

“Forgive me, Mister Soruta, my nerves overwhelmed me,” she said sweetly. 

She straightened, shrugging off her guards with a shudder. Even in support, the touch of their hands was hard to bear. That helped, just a few fewer minds to have to drown out. 

She swept serenely into the penthouse, her hand outstretched to greet her mark.

“Dwane,” she said in a syrupy thick voice, “it has been far too long. How  _ are  _ you?”   


“Too long indeed,” he said carefully. He scanned her like a hungry predator. Rey couldn’t miss the almost imperceptible leer on his face. “You look well.”   


He reached for her hand.

She tittered a little laugh. “You flatterer,” she simpered. “I know I’m an absolute eyesore after that journey.”

His hand was far too soft against her fingers and she repressed a full-body shudder when his lips brushed limply across the back of her knuckles. Her other hand curled into the hem of her sleeve to keep from clawing the touch off her skin.   


“An eyesore? My Lady, that could not be further from the truth. But what seems to bring you into my orbit?” he asked, pulling her in close, so close she could smell the heavy cologne on him, feel the scratching of his clothing against her. He was dressed casually, however; he was just as Bazine as described. “It is unfortunate that we did not have much time alone together upon our first meeting, so I must presume you  _ only _ came here because you want to discuss business matters.”

She extricated herself as subtly as she could, sauntering over to the plush sofa by the viewport. She lounged along its length with a bored expression, legs spread delicately across the overstuffed surface, propping up her head on her hand. She made sure to stretch as far as she could, effectively barring him from sitting beside her. She needed to get him to look her in the eye.

“Naturally, Mister Soruta,” she said coyly. “Have you guessed yet what business that is?”

“I would normally assume it would be my usual real estate holdings, but at this hour, I can only make assumptions, ones that I fear are too bold and crass for your more delicate sensibilities,” he said with a smirk that might have been charming if it weren’t so self-aware.   


He shot a look over his shoulder at Finn, Jai’cen, and Bazine, who lingered at a distance.   


“Will...will your entourage be joining us tonight? They are welcome to take my private lift to the lobby bar.”   


She waved them away with a lazy twitch of her hand. 

“Go on, don’t enjoy yourselves too much,” she drawled, swallowing her apprehension at being left alone in a room with this man.

Finn stepped forward, his own expression less well-guarded. “With all due respect...my Lady, your protection is our top priority, I don’t think—” 

“Yes, but I don’t pay you to  _ think,  _ now do I?” she snapped, shooting him a look that she hoped would reassure him, her eyes softer than her voice. 

“Besides,” she purred, turning back to her host, “I am perfectly safe here with Mister Soruta. Am I not, Dwane?”   


The man, for all his influence and power, couldn’t disguise his childishly giddy expression.    


“Of course, my Lady. Everything and everyone here is perfectly safe.”   


Bazine failed to suppress a smirk.    


“As you wish, my Lady,” the mercenary drawled, gesturing to her companions. “We will be available should you need us.”   


She took a few graceful steps back to the turbolift, the two dumbstruck guards following her soon after.    


Rey caught the pained expression on Finn’s face as he turned back to the suite. He nodded stiffly at her once as the doors slid shut, then she was alone with Dwane.   
He strolled back over to her.   


“Now,” he began. “Tell me truly, Viré. I apologize for being so bold, but...after all this time, why  _ did  _ you choose to seek me out?”

“What, you’re not pleased to see me?” she giggled, drawing her long hair over one shoulder. She hadn’t realized how long it had gotten in captivity. She absently began to pluck at the ends, a memory tugging at the strands. 

_ Long fingers carding through wet hair, trailing down her bare neck, lips teasing at the delicate skin behind her ear… _

She tamped down the memory with an iron fist, smiling bright as a synth-sapph.    


“Oh, of course not! I mean, I am, I meant only…” Dwane stammered, embarrassed, as he scanned Rey. He licked his lips and continued. “After this time apart...I can’t help but feel surprised to see you. I thought...I had assumed, Aric had thought...after Canto Bight…”   


He fiddled with his hands. The hunger that had consumed him moments ago seemed to vanish in a sudden veil of unease.

“My Lady, I apologize. I do not mean to speak of such bleak things.”

“Oh, stars, of course, Canto Bight.” She hoped her expression came across as sheepish; she found herself going nearly numb with the effort of keeping focused on one thing at a time. 

“I really must explain my behavior, if you’ll permit me,” she said apologetically, her eyes fixed demurely on the floor in front of her. “As I’m sure you recall, I was in the company of Lord Ren that evening. It was a...business arrangement. And I make it my policy not to mix business with pleasure. I was not at liberty to return any of your advances.” She shivered delicately. “You cannot imagine what he might have done had my eye strayed.”   


She almost saw him wince as his eyes fell to the floor. “I would not wish it, Viré,” he said quietly. “My sincerest regrets for what you must have gone through under that monster’s thumb, and for my uncouth behavior towards you. I did not fully understand the situation and lashed out in a desperate bid to salvage mine and my brother’s honor. I hope you will accept my apology, and that we might have a fresh start.”   


She almost couldn’t keep the shock off her face. This was not the Dwane Soruta that she had met in the midst of the glittering cruelty and rotten beauty of Canto Bight. He seemed so much smaller than he had been in that ballroom when he had cursed her for her dismissal of his brother. He seemed bruised...like her. It made what she had to do that much harder.

“Dwane,” she said softly, sitting up on the sofa and leaning in closer to him. “I have a great favor to ask of you.”   


That seemed to bring him back into himself. 

“Ask away, my Lady,” he said, his false smile returning. 

She exhaled slowly, sidling ever so closer. “Word is that you’ve been invited to the celebration in the Supreme Leader’s honor…” She shifted a little in her seat. “Is that true?”   


The smile fell.    


“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, bitterness in his tone. “I can’t say I feel any affection for the First Order, though, and I don’t intend to go. I hold Lord Ren responsible for my brother’s death. His presence at the ball on Canto Bight caused the massacre.”

“Stars, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard,” she lied. She thought she had seen his brother’s body on the ballroom floor that night, only to learn later that she had been correct.   


He softened, walking again towards her and taking a seat on the plush ottoman opposite her. “I have generally stayed out of the public eye since then. My brother, you see, he was my closest confidante. My best friend. His loss was tremendous. I...I thought you had died as well, my Lady. I tried to search the Holonet to see if you were well, but when I didn’t hear anything...I feared I wouldn’t have the chance to atone for my behavior. Aric was instantly very smitten with you...” His gaze swept over her reclined form. “As, I admit, am I.”

She hoped that her expression was appropriately coquettish, given that she could barely stomach the thought of the Soruta brothers’ affections. She could feel waves of lust rolling off of him and successfully suppressed a shudder. She had to change the subject.

“But surely there is some advantage to be had in your attendance?” she pushed, praying that he would see reason before she had to force him.

He took her guidance in the conversation without malice and gazed at her with a surprisingly earnest expression. “You’ll have to pardon me if having you in my company is more desirable than any possible advancement the First Order might bring me.”   


She gave a wry chuckle, reaching out to take his hand, even as the feeling of his skin curdled her stomach.

“So flattering, Dwane,” she purred.

Then her face became abruptly serious. 

“But I need to be on that guest list.”

It took almost nothing to breach his mind. Her eyes, hard quartz, dug into his, dull blue, and she spoke.

“ _ You will accept the invitation to the Supreme Leader’s gala _ ,” she said calmly, her voice devoid of any of the panic and pain that seared through her.   


“But why?” Dwane responded, shocked, dazed. “My Lady, I don’t expect to speak for you, but I don’t much feel like celebrating the life and return of a man who has caused so much death and ruin.”

She sat up, tightened her grip on his hand and intensified her stare. This had to work. She had to make this work.

“ _ You will accept the invitation to the Supreme Leader’s gala _ ,” she repeated, more sternly this time. She could feel his apprehension, could hear the confusion in his mind. She needed him to listen. She burrowed deeper.   


His eyes seemed to glaze over, but he said nothing.    


“ _ You will accept the invitation to the Supreme Leader’s gala _ ,” she almost shouted. The calm left her as the Force’s fingers reached for her face, tender as a lover, crooning to her soul that she had been missed, so sorely missed. 

_ Let me in, little one. Let me play. _

She tried to shake off the shadows, but they were so soft in her mind and she needed more to accomplish her goal. 

_ Do it for Ben. _

She let the Force flow through her, into Dwane’s gaping, vulnerable mind. She flinched as images of a familiar face flashed past her; laughing, talking, arguing, pressed against the marble floor of a ballroom, blood pooling around his face as unseeing blue eyes dulled forever. Guilt, rage, anguish, grief, it all swept over her in inky waves. She found the place where she could plant her seeds of suggestion and dove in.

“ _ Aric would want you to go to the Supreme Leader’s celebration _ ,” she choked out, “ _ as a sign of goodwill. Aric would not want you to throw away this golden opportunity. _ ”

She bit back a weak sob, hating that she was doing to another person what had been done to her. Tainting memories, twisting affections, manipulating emotions. 

Even worse, she hated what she had clearly been reduced to; even with someone she hated, someone malleable and tractable, she wasn’t enough to change his mind. Little. Ugly. Broken. 

She didn’t want to think of how much harder it would be to convince someone who had loved her once and had to look at her now.    


His lips trembled, and then he spoke, his voice vacant.    


“I will accept the invitation to the Supreme Leader’s gala,” he said. A single tear rolled down his cheek. 

“ _ You will take Lady Viré to the gala as your date _ ,” she slipped in, almost too easily now that he had accepted her suggestion. It all felt like an afterthought now. She would never feel clean again.   


His hands fell limply into his lap.   


“I will take Lady Viré to the gala as my date,” he muttered.    


After a moment, he rose and crossed the room to where a datapad casually rested on a side table. 

“I’ll reply to the invitation now,” he said quietly.   


Rey fished her hand into her pocket. She thumbed the call button on her comm.   


“Is everything alright?” Azwe replied instantly. “Finn told me you were separated.”   


“It’s done,” Rey mumbled into the little speaker. “I’m ready to leave n—”

For a moment, she felt as if her senses were dulling again, and the world grew silent. Then it roared back to life, loud and musical. Something in her mind clicked. She felt her heart hammering at the familiarity.

A quiet, distant voice seemed to cry out then.

_ Rey? _

Everything went still around her and inside her. It was only the voice, one she had longed to hear caressing her mind for so long.

_ Rey, are you there? _

She couldn’t breathe.   


“...Ben? _ ”  _ she gasped, little more than a whisper.

He’d found her.

Their two minds, parted for so long and finally reunited, tumbled together like clashing tides. Currents of thought and emotion roiled and melded and intertwined until she couldn’t pick between the individual threads to identify whose was whose. Relief. Joy. Disbelief. Longing. Heartbreak. Regret. Agony.   


“Rey? You copy?” Azwe’s voice in her hand broke through the torrent.

And then fear, cold and all-consuming, sprouted like a weed in the pit of her stomach. It crept up her spine, curled its thorny vines around the tattered remains of her heart, and squeezed. He had found her. And he was going to destroy her only chance of ever seeing him again. 

If she couldn’t pull this off, extract Dwane, she would have no way of getting to Ben on the  _ Absolution.  _ His last memory of her before Poe threw her back in the pit and lost the key to her binders forever would be of her, terrified and battered, in another man’s quarters. 

“ _ No _ ,” she whispered.

She lurched to her feet, her eyes glassy, and stumbled over to Dwane.

“Viré, what…?” he began before she broke into his mind again, her voice blank and terrified in his head. 

“ _ You need to pack your things quickly and come with me _ .”

“I need to pack my things quickly and go with you,” repeated Dwane easily, shuffling away to pull his belongings together.

The air in the room was becoming impossible to inhale. She couldn’t see him yet, but the sound always came before the inevitable visions appeared. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers scrabbling against the sides of her head. She begged the Force to make her invisible, to dissolve into the air, to hide her before he saw everything. She couldn’t let him see her like this. 

Not like this. 

“No...no no no…” she whimpered.

_ Rey? Please. It’s me. I’m here. _

She was on the verge of hyperventilating; black spots were threatening at the edge of her vision as her panic swept her under. 

“This can't...this can't b-be happening...please, I can't...I can't…” she stammered, her chest heaving for air, her thin frame shaking violently.

_ Rey, I’m here.  _ He sounded like he did in the dark forest after their flight through the trees. Soothing, kind, loving.

He was so close but so far. All she had to do was let him in. It had been so easy before when she was whole and loved and his. 

All she had to do was let him in. She wanted to do it so badly, to see him and love him and keep him close so that she would never have to lose him again. 

But she wasn’t that woman anymore, the one who had dragged him out of the mangled cockpit of his Silencer, risked her safety for his, selflessly and bravely cared for him above all else. Now she was pitiful. Weak. Selfish. She couldn’t let him see what had become of her since their parting. 

The turbolift opened. 

Finn and Jai’cen stormed into the room, Bazine strolling behind them.    


“Rey?” Finn barked, coming to a halt behind her. “Is everything alright? Az told us you called. Where is he?”   


_ Don’t be afraid, it’s alright. _

“I—I can't do this,” she gasped. 

Finn walked around to face her and was on immediate alert.

“What’s wrong?” His question was more of a command. “Rey, talk to me. What’s happening.”   


Dwane lumbered back into the room, a hastily packed bag in his hand, looking dazed.   


“My Lady?” he asked groggily. “What’s the commotion?”   


Panic flared high in her bloodstream. She did not focus on the Force, but as her hand flung out toward him wildly, he dropped to the floor in a boneless heap, his eyes rolled back into his skull. Jai’cen jumped back with a shout.

“What the kriff is going on with this lady?” he exclaimed, rushing to Dwane’s limp form. Rey had been too distracted by Ben’s voice in her mind to focus on the Force, on the room around them. She had reached out and commanded Dwane to silence. She hadn’t thought; she just channeled it.

_ Rey, please. _ Ben was begging.  _ I've missed you so much. Come back to me. _

Her heart was shattering with every pleading word in that low, beautiful voice of his. 

_ Come back. _

Rey turned beseechingly back to Finn, tears streaming down her face as her breathing accelerated. She reached out to him with shaking hands.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Help me. I can’t d-do this. I can’t let him...can’t let him see me...”

_ Rey, please, it's me. It's just me. It's Ben, your Ben. _

“What’s going on?” Finn’s tone was calm, firm, but she could see the shadow of worry behind his eyes. “You have to talk to me, Peanut, otherwise I can’t help you.”

Ben was reaching desperately through the bond, trying to make her manifest before him. She could feel his despair sharpening the filaments between them and she cried out in agony. It hurt so much to push him away again, but it would hurt even more to see the disappointment in his eyes when he saw her.

_ You don't have to be afraid. I’m here. You can do this, I'll help you. _

“Put them back, put them back,” she hiccupped, her hands outstretched in supplication. 

“Is it him?” Finn asked lowly, barely audible over the roaring in her ears--an ocean? Her blood? Ben’s grief? “Is it Kylo?”

She nodded frantically, mute in her pain. 

Guilt ripped a hole in her chest. Was this not what she had wanted? To connect with Ben again? To feel his warmth and comfort in her mind where there had been cold and darkness for months? This was everything she wanted; why couldn’t she just have it? 

Finn reached out to press a hand to Rey’s cheek to soothe her, but thought better of it and reached into his pocket instead. 

“You sure?”

“Please, put them back,” she sobbed, overcome with an agony that was both hers and not hers.  “...I can’t...help me...I can’t bear it.”

She could feel Ben, her eyes tightly closed against his apparition. She couldn’t see him, she couldn’t let him see her...not like this.    
Without another word, Finn snapped one bulky binder onto her right wrist.

_ Rey?  _ Ben was desperate, frantic. So close. Just out of reach.  _ Stay with me, Rey, please. Tell me where you are. I'll come find you, Rey. I'll come back. _

She felt the emptying of the universe as the dampeners started to work. His presence flickered. The connection was weakening. She was about to lose him again and she had no one to blame but herself. 

His voice was a pained whisper.

_ Please, cyar’ika... _

The second binder followed on her left wrist seconds later.

_ Rey? _

And everything went quiet.

Rey fell to her knees at Finn’s feet, weeping uncontrollably. 

From near the turbolift, Bazine Netal watched the whole scene unfold.

Bazine loved her line of work. She loved the money. But more than that, she loved a good story. She was a weaver of tales, a raconteur. She made good money from the Supreme Leader’s last job, but more than that, she had dazzled any number of barflies across seven systems with the story of a rich monster in a mask who had summoned her to kidnap a sloppy pilot and make her into a princess for a night. It was better than any fairytale you could come up with.

Now she surveyed the room. The unconscious businessman was being tended to by a guard shouting frantically into a comm link, while the young woman, the ragged princess of old, was being consoled by the gentler guard, who now held her by the shoulders and was mumbling calming words to her while she wept openly into her manacled hands. 

“The Lady is a Jedi,” Bazine said with a wolfish smile, clapping her hands in unrestrained delight. 

“I kriffing  _ love _ private contracting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by Bazine Netal, our favorite Space Uber Driver.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When you get Ben, when you have him alone, you have to promise me you will do one thing and one thing only."  
> “What’s that?”  
> "Run."

"Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,  
If you will lead these graces to the grave"

        Twelfth Night, or What You Will, I.V

* * *

 

_I’ll come find you, Rey._

_I’ll come back._

_Please, cyar’ika._

Ben’s voice rolled around in her skull like a boulder, bashing into her other thoughts and crushing them beneath its weight. She couldn’t get rid of it. The heavy silence that came with the dampener cuffs’ return to her wrists left her nowhere to hide from his gentle words. That voice, which had returned so ruinously to Rey’s mind, had yet to fade by the time they made it to the Resistance flagship, the _Holdo._ Rey had finally stopped shaking by the time she was presented to the General, a life-size holoprojection on the command deck.

Leia’s eyes were gentle as Jai’cen and Finn recounted what happened. The unconscious Dwane was transported to crew quarters, where he would be kept in a state of hibernation until time for the gala. His datapad, which had received the confirmation codes for landing on the _Absolution_ for the gala, had been brought along with the unconscious businessman, and Poe was coordinating with his pilots to try to arrange a drop-off for Rey and her unwilling date, as well as back-up for their eventual exit. Bazine would be contacted to come fetch Dwane when the time was right, though she insisted that part was not really necessary, in fact she’d rather not.

The General dismissed them for the night.

“Sleep well, Rey,” she said. “Tomorrow will be a big day.” A benediction and a warning.

Finn escorted Rey to a small bay of crew quarters, keeping a few steps behind her as they walked. His gaze was gentle but concerned on the back of her neck; she tried to ignore it. He stopped before a door, pushing a panel to open it, then turned to regard her.

He stood in the open doorway, partly blocking her from entering, partly analyzing her, as if trying to piece her together with his eyes.

She shifted under his scrutiny, avoiding his gaze.

“You know, you’d be able to guard me better if I was actually, you know, _in_ the room,” she muttered.

“Oh! Right, yeah. Sorry,” he took a small sidestep, but did not actually make way for her. “You know, I’m not actually guarding you tonight. We’re blocking off this section of the cabins, and uh, yeah. No one’s going to come in or out till 0600. Oh! Except your droids. They’re being scanned, but they’ll be allowed down. You can buzz us on the comm if you need anything.”

She nodded a little, but didn’t really move to try to get past him. They stood there for a few moments of heavy silence and avoided glances.

“Finn—”

“Look, Rey—Oh, you go ahead.”

“No, no, you go.”

“Oh.” Finn froze, what he meant to say forgotten. “I uh...I just wanted to see if you were feeling better. I didn’t realize...I mean the Force…” He made a gesture like an explosion, complete with sound effects. “I didn’t...it’s strong, right? I didn’t...it can do that? I mean...you seemed...yeah.”

She couldn’t help it. She doubled over with the force of her laughter. Bright and silvery, it bounced off of every surface in the sector and ricocheted around the inside of her rib cage. She laughed so long and so hard that it made her stomach hurt and tears tickle the corners of her eyes. 

“Wait, no, uh…” Finn flailed his hands out in an attempt to regain her attention and failed spectacularly. He soon gave up with a fond smile.

“So...you’re feeling better?” he chuckled hopefully.

She smiled back at him, more genuinely than she probably had since Takodana. 

“I think I am now,” she murmured. She hesitated then, her smile faltering.

“I’ve really missed you, Finn. Thank you, for helping me today.” 

Finn stood there stricken, fearful, almost.

“Yeah,” he panted at last. “Yeah, me too. I missed you too, I mean. And you’re welcome, too.”

He scrunched up his face in frustration.

“I _mean_ , I’m glad I could be there for you, because I missed you too, Rey,” he said quietly. “They, uh, they had me worried about you.”

Her brows scrunched up in a silent question.

“I mean, I didn’t know at first but…” He looked at the floor and sighed. “I heard rumors about where they were keeping you, but I didn’t...I didn’t care to find out, if I’m telling the truth.”

He took a deep breath and looked back up at her. “Look, Rey, I’m...I’m sorrier than I can say. About all of this. I regret any role I played in what’s happened to you. You were my friend and...and I forgot that. I got caught up in the shock of it all that I didn’t think, and I didn’t listen...I forgot that you were still _you,_ Peanut. You may have less sand in your boots, but you will always be my first real friend, and I should have been a better one to you.”

She sniffled softly, drying her cheek on her sleeve. She tried to keep the hiccupping breaths at bay and found that she was failing miserably.

“You have to know that I never meant to hurt you, Finn,” she choked. “I would never try to hurt you. You are...you’re the closest thing to a family I have ever had. That day at the hangar, when they arrested me, you looked at me like I had run you through myself...I will regret that moment until the day that I die. And I…” She took another shaking breath. “I am so _sorry_ for the pain that I have caused you.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, her binders knocking painlessly against her cheekbones. “I could never ask you to forgive me…but I hope that one day you’ll be able to call me your friend again.”

She made to nudge past him into her room, but he stopped her with an extended arm.

“No need to ask,” he said slowly. “I just need to know something.”

“Anything,” she mumbled, looking back up at him.

“Is he...is he really good to you? Kylo Ren—I mean, Ben, is he...I know what he _was_ , on Starkiller and all that, but he’s...he’s okay now?”

He cleared his throat then spoke again.

“I need to know he’s good enough for my friend.”

She swallowed thickly, fixing her eyes on the slapdash patch job on his jacket. Another scar put there by the man she loved. She tried to think past the sound of his plaintive voice echoing in her head. She nodded.

“He was...is…” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “So kind, so good to me. He saved my life, in more ways than one.”

_And what have I done with that gift? What will be left of the woman he saved by the time we meet again?_

She looked back up at her friend’s dear face. “You’d be proud to know him if you met him now.”

“I...I believe you,” Finn said with a sad smile. “Any guy who you love...he’s gotta be pretty great, because he’s got an amazing lady to fight for. And Sith Lord or not, I’d chuck him from the upper atmosphere again if he did anything to hurt you.”

She chuckled wetly. “I would expect nothing less from you...Peanut.”

He chucked her chin with a smile. “But in order for me to throw him, we gotta get him back. So you need to sleep, Miss Jedi.”

She winced a bit at his sudden touch and the moniker. She thought of the tingle in her fingers as the Force had flowed through her. She thought of Dwane Soruta’s mind rent open by invisible claws that she wielded. She thought of the island, and the last Jedi. 

“I’m not a Jedi,” she murmured. “Not anymore, I’m not.”

Rey turned for her door, but not before shooting another half smile over her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Finn. Give my love to Rose.”

And without another word, she disappeared into her new quarters.

  
Rey heard the door opening but didn’t move.

She had been awake for at least an hour but refused to get out of bed.

The day can’t arrive if she doesn’t go greet it, her groggily brain rationalized.

However, the droids had been sent to greet _her,_ shattering her sound logic.

“Mistress, you have been summoned,” Aytar said. 

“Who wants me today?” she grumbled.

“Me, this time.”

Rey instantly bolted up out of her stupor and whirled to see General Leia Organa standing at the foot of her bed. It had been so long since that voice was clear and real, rather than scratchy and staticky from filtering through microphones and speaker systems. And then there was the woman herself. As always, she was everything motherly and comforting that she would always represent for Rey. It was achingly good to see her, but even the ease of Leia’s gentle presence couldn’t drown out the sickly prickling in Rey’s skin.

“G-general,” she croaked, unable to really say much else.

“You know, these droids have been bucking their programming all over the place,” Leia said, cocking her head as she stared at Emfor. “They’ve been doing their jobs well enough, but ever since we enabled their vocalizers, they’ve been saying things outside the scope of their functions.”

“See, I warned you they would find out,” Emfor snapped to his companion.

“It’s alright, guys.” The General began walking around them in an idle circle. “You’re not getting scrapped. But Poe had them scanned yesterday when they were brought on the

 _Holdo_ , and he wasn’t very happy with me.”

Rey just watched her droid companions with mild amusement and chagrin.

“I swear, it wasn’t me.”

“Oh, I never thought it was you.” Leia laughed. “That’s what I get for buying second-hand droids from Maz Kanata.” 

“That explains...basically everything.”

“I certainly agree. I hope they made decent company, at least.”

Rey smiled a bit. “The best I could hope for,” she said sincerely.

Emfor and Aytar seemed to preen under her praise, chittering between themselves as Leia came to sit on the edge of the bed.

Rey fidgeted under her blanket, picking at invisible bits of lint.

“Is it time, then?” she murmured.

“These two might be great companions, but they are abysmal alarms,” the General said wryly. “If you want to go through with it, we have to get started. I don’t know what your official-unofficial title is, but I have some experience attending these types of events, and they take a while to get ready for. That is if you’re still willing to do it.”

“Of course I am,” Rey said quickly, hoping that she was convincing the General as well as herself. “It’s just—the last time…” 

She stopped for a moment, and she could almost feel long fingers tugging her hair out of an intricate braid, the whisper of gossamer against her legs, a warm leather-bound hand slipping across the small of her back. She shook the memory off.

“The last time I went to something like this, I had, well, for lack of a better term, I had a human cheat-sheet.” Her fingers clenched in the covers. “I don’t know how I’m going to make my cover convincing on my own. It’s one thing for Ben to recognize me. What if the rest of the First Order find me out?”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve been to many First Order events, but I did have to go to Imperial events with my father, and this is more military etiquette than anything else. An intergalactic guest list means while everyone is considered “polite society,” the manners aren’t exactly held to one single standard. Plus, you’re the date of a nouveau riche core-world businessman; he isn’t a gentleman with a title or a bloodline to back it up, so that’s to your benefit,” Leia said, then she paused to think. “Do you think they might recognize you?”

“I doubt it. Ben destroyed the records of me, and after Canto Bight...there weren’t many survivors.” She flinched, her mind returning to the pain she had found in Dwane Soruta’s memories. “It’s just...I’m not exactly what one would call the pinnacle of breeding and manners...”

She flicked her eyes up to Leia’s kind, patient face. 

“This has to work, General,” she said in a tumble of anxiety. “I don’t want to do anything that might compromise this mission. If something as trivial as an improper dance card is the difference between success and failure, I don’t know what I’d do…”

“If there’s one thing I learned in my time dealing with nobility and politicians of all stripes, it’s this: fake it, and if you can’t, act like you’re too good for it.”

The General folded her hands on her lap.

“I will walk you through it while we get you ready. Feel free to fire questions at me. You’re just a regular guest at this, so you shouldn’t be under much scrutiny. You just need to get Ben’s attention long enough to get him out of there; everything else should be manageable.”

Leia sighed.

“Trust me, I helped my boys through dozens of these. You’ve already got a hundred times the grace of those two moof-milkers combined. I have every confidence in you. I think you just need some in yourself.”

Rey let out a long breath, steadying herself. 

“Okay,” she said. “What do we need to do?”

 

“Hold still!” the frustrated attendant droid trilled. “You will never get scrubbed if you keep fidgeting!”

The bath was both a delight and a nightmare, Rey discovered. While a small part of her was delighting at the idea of being pampered in the General’s quarters, the reality of it was more harrowing that she could have guessed.

Every time she allowed herself to try to become centered, breathing in deeply of the floral soaps and oils and lotions, LY-73 would start shaving this or trimming that, jerking her around the large tub to get a better grip on her. Her uncomfortably long nails had finally been cut, and her hair had been washed and combed and detangled until it was sleek and soft, but at extreme discomfort. 

Her only relief in the moment was that the droid’s hand did not feel like actual touch, so it was at least tolerable, if still irritating. Finn had told her once about a phenomenon common among the ranks of the Stormtroopers when he was younger: touch starvation. Apparently, human beings were made to be touched, and would suffer real physical symptoms if they didn’t receive regular skin-to-skin contact. She remembered the faint aches in her bones on the days when the desert stretched too wide and she felt as if every particle of her being would fly apart if she didn’t see another life form. Even on Jakku, she at least had the Outpost to turn to everyday, the hustle and bustle and shoulder to shoulder working space providing ample, if unwelcome, contact with others.

Now, it was months too late; the damage had been done. Every touch felt like a gutting knife, stinging and painful. She longed for the comfort of a warm hug, a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a hand to hold. But the contact itself was agonizing, sickening discomfort. She wondered if she would ever be able to bear the weight of another’s hand on her skin. What if she couldn’t even bear Ben’s touch? It would break her to lose the first loving hands that had ever been laid upon her.

If he would even look at her.

In the corner of her mind, there was Ben’s awestruck gaze on her, skinny and soaking and wearing nothing but her underthings and arm wraps in the chilly cave. He had been so accepting and adoring, watching her and caressing her with such tenderness that would have made her brittle heart shatter had she received those attentions now.

She had had far less preparation for that occasion, and he had seen her completely naked that time. Now, he would likely only see the flesh not covered by her gown, whatever that would look like, but every inch of her was being polished as if she were a prized speeder. Or a lamb led to slaughter.

But she was nothing. She wasn’t half of what she had been when Ben had seen her last. They could paint her and lacquer her all they wanted; they couldn’t fill in the hollows of her cheeks, the gaps in her ribs, the emptiness of her heart with some pretty decorations. 

This whole mission hinged on her, and she might cause it to fail, simply because she was not enough for the man she had loved once.

She had to keep her head above water, however. There was still a chance, however slim...

The droid tugged a bit too hard on her arm, pulling at the tender skin of her wrists. Rey shrieked in pain.

“Okay, that’s it!” she snapped, yanking her arm back. “Out! Right now!”

“But, the General—”

“Yeah? Go get her if you’re so concerned. I can bathe myself, I’m not a child. Now go on!”

“But—!”

“OUT!”

LY-73 whirred out, muttering inaudibly and shutting the door behind it.

Finally free from the machinations of the attendant droid, she sighed in relief and sank a bit deeper under the water, resting her chin on her knees. She watched the ends of her hair float out around her, undulating softly in the imperceptible movements of the bath. She let the odd ballet pull her into a trance, sinking deeper and deeper into her thoughts. 

_I’ve missed you so much._

_Come back to me._

_Come back._

The phantom echo of his voice in her mind didn’t carry the same sting that it had the night before. The ache was a dull, longing thing, like pressure on a bruise. She couldn’t bear to think about the pain that her rejection had caused him. She could feel it as the bond was severed; his despair, his agony, his heartbreak had rung like a bell through the connection. Heartbreak that crippled them both.

_We are too entangled to be parted without both of us being bloodied._

She had to breathe deeply through her nose to keep from weeping at the memory. The light scent of flowers and citrus helped bring her thoughts back to the water and the task ahead of her. She couldn’t afford to linger in all-consuming grief now. She had to get him back. Their broken hearts could wait a few more hours until he was safe again.

A few more hours. The concept staggered her. Within mere hours, she would be in the same room as him again. 

How would he react when he saw her? Would he be able to see the months of sleepless nights under her eyes, the missed meals between her ribs, the rings of raw flesh around her wrists? Would he be disgusted? Or would he pity her? 

No...no, if she knew Ben, she knew he’d blame himself for her miseries. 

Should she let him?

She reached for the discarded plastisteel razor sitting on the edge of the tub and followed the remembered pathways under her arms, between her legs, and along her shins, moving with perfunctory attention until a tiny spot of pain blossomed just below her roughened knee cap. She peered down into the water as a thin stream of blood floated up from her flesh like the last tendril of smoke from a campfire. She watched it curl through the soapy water with a blank expression. 

The last time had been different.

The attendant droid was friendlier and definitely gentler. Though she hated the incessant prodding and primping and chattering that it had forced on her, all was easily forgiven when she saw herself, resplendently beautiful, in Ben’s eyes.

Ben had been in the next room, then. She hadn’t seen him in so long before they had met on Canto Bight. She hadn’t wanted to, then. But his presence so near to her was strangely soothing.

Though she had been at war with her own thoughts for the months she had blocked him out, it was hard to stay angry at him once she saw him again.

True, the man she had trusted most in a time of desperation had turned around and chosen the First Order over her. And she couldn’t forget it, but she couldn’t hate him anymore. The pang of concern in her heart when she saw him again made sure of that.

What he was offering was too important that a simple dance with him couldn’t hurt. After all, he had more to lose in this bargain, and he had made no pretense in disguising just how willing he was to give it all away for her.

She had been wrong, then. It wasn’t just a dance.

Now…

Now she was alone. Now she knew what she looked like when she was made to be beautiful. Now she knew she wasn’t, and nothing done to her could fix everything wrong and raw about her. 

What if he wouldn’t go with her? What if she _wasn’t_ enough to bring him home?

_Save Ben Solo, or kill Kylo Ren._

An authoritative knock on the ‘fresher door startled her out of her bleak musings. 

“Everything alright, Rey?” came the General’s voice from the other side of the door.

Rey shivered; the water had gone just cold enough for her to notice. 

“Just finishing up, General, I’ll be right out,” she called back.

“Alright, take your time. You and I need to have a final chat before we get you ready.”

Rey stepped carefully out of the tub and caught a glimpse of herself over in the long mirror at the end of the spacious refresher.

A modicum of color had returned to her skin from the times she had sat in the sunlight on the floor of her room. The scabs on her knees had given way to silvery pink splotches of scar tissue. Her bones were less prominent, but she could still see the shadows of her ribs when she twisted to look at her back. Her lips were paler, only slightly less chapped and rough.

She thought with a pang that she probably looked like she did when they first met in the woods of Takodana; the scrawny scavenger girl and a wraith of shadows and rage.

Absently, she ran pruny hands over her small breasts and down her ribs, following the slight curve of her waist and settling on the blunt crags of her hipbones and shivering minutely at the touch.

She wished, for the first time, that this body was someone else’s. Someone who could be touched without feeling like screaming, who didn’t taste permanently of salt from the seemingly unending stream of tears, who had softness under her skin instead of despair. Someone who would be worthy to be loved by her Ben.

She grabbed for the silky robe waiting for her on a hook by the door and turned away from the girl in the mirror. Unworthy as she was.  
When she entered the General’s quarters, Leia was tapping her spoon on the edge of her teacup. She did not look up at Rey as she spoke.  
“Sorry your bath was less than pleasant. LY got under your skin?”

“I don’t know if LY left any skin for me after they were done.”

Leia's brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry about that. Would you like some tea?"

Rey sat gingerly in the seat across the table.

“Yes, please,” she said quietly, still half lost in her thoughts.

Leia poured her some from an elegant tea pot sitting on a chrome tray.

"Now, I figured you wouldn't mind us having a quick mission briefing, just the two of us, since your tasks will be a little bit different. Everyone else already had theirs; everything is on track for the mission, and we are all on the same page."

The cup was just shy of burning between Rey’s palms, but she didn’t flinch at the heat.

“If I’m honest, I far prefer a briefing with you to a briefing with Poe,” she said flatly, taking a tentative sip of her tea. Or anyone eelse,he thought, imagining all those eyes on her. She didn’t want to be the center of attention. Not at the gala, certainly, and definitely not now.

She paused for a moment as the flavors blossomed on her tongue, before looking down into the pale cup of liquid.

“Is this...Gatalentan tea?” she murmured.

"Something is on your mind," Leia said.

Rey traced the edge of the teacup with a fingertip.

“This just...feels familiar...before, on Canto Bight, Ben...” She was almost afraid to say his name lest she curse it by accident. “He had Gatalentan tea sent to me before the ball.”

She cradled the cup closer to her chest, letting the warmth and the delicate scent smooth over some of her nerves.

Leia stared at her hands.

"I didn't think Ben liked tea all that much. But yes, Gatalentan tea is some of the best."

She paused.

"It's good to know my son is thoughtful, at least." Her smile was wry and didn't meet her eyes.

“Yes…”

They sat in awkward silence for a short while, sipping their tea and thinking on the events ahead.

“How’d the briefing with the others go?” Rey asked quietly.

Leia sighed. "About as I expected. This is one of the tenser missions we've had in a while. It's not just 'Go to the planet and obtain the intelligence.' There are a lot of moving pieces, a lot of uncertainties, and a lot of espionage. A lot is being asked of everyone assigned to this mission, but all of them have faith in you. I think Poe and Finn might have been helping with that." She smiled slightly.

“Really?” Rey risked letting a glimmer of hope light her eyes.

"They have complete confidence in you, Rey, as do we all. However you plan to pull this off."

She took a sip of tea and considered Rey.

"I guess this briefing is just as much for my benefit as yours. We have a few hours scheduled to get you dressed and ready, then you will be escorted to the shuttle. We are borrowing a luxury cruiser for the evening to get you there. But that's neither here nor there."

She leaned forward towards, her gaze severe, her tone grave.

"Rey, I need to know before we get started: are you okay with all of this?"

Rey was silent for a long moment, considering the depths of her teacup.

“I will do whatever it takes to bring Ben home,” she mumbled. “But—“

She paused, took a hurried sip of tea, fidgeting with the ceramic cup. She exhaled a long breath before looking up at her commander and friend.

“Leia, I’m terrified.” The honesty of the words was both liberating and frightening. “Back on Kuat, when I...did what I did to Soruta...I felt Ben in my mind again. Very briefly, but I felt him and...and I...I know he felt me.”

She looked down at the cuffs around her wrists, shame heating her wan cheeks.

“I couldn’t handle it. I _begged_ Finn to put the binders back on. I was so overwhelmed that even after being parted from him for so long, the reality of having him near again...it was unbearable.”

She took another sip of tea, letting the warmth sink into her suddenly cold bones.

“If I can’t bear it across a galaxy, how will I be able to manage being in the same room with him again? I’m not the woman he fell in love with anymore. How can I be sure that this will work?”

"What do you mean you're not the woman he fell in love with?" Leia asked gently.

“I feel...”

Rey slumped back into her seat, leaving the cup before her on the table.

“...broken. Weak. Twisted. Like...a wound somewhere inside me healed wrong.”

She looked back up at Leia with such aching sadness in her eyes.

“I don’t feel like myself anymore. And I don’t know if I ever will again.”

She let out a shaking sigh. “I’m not the woman I was when he loved me.”

The older woman straightened herself in a way that seemed both calm and authoritative. "What is it you think you lost?"

“I...I don’t know...I think it may have been a piece of my soul.”

"Your soul?"

Rey shook her head. “I don’t know how else to describe it. It just feels so empty inside me.”

"And that emptiness makes you unlovable?"

The younger woman was quiet as the words sank in.

“...yes I suppose so.”

She shifted in her chair.

She tried not to think about what Ben had admired about her, what she had lost, but she couldn’t forget what he had said to her not long after she arrived on Canto Bight:

_I could put you in a den of beasts and you...you wouldn't care. Their judgment and pettiness mean nothing to you. You are above it all. You aren't nobody, Rey; no, all these people are wearing their finery to hide how they are nothing beneath the clothes and wealth. You may not be the most refined or the best schooled in etiquette, but you know who you are. That is the greatest power I can think of._

She drew in a quavering breath.

“Ben fell in love with the fire in me, the strength and stubbornness. I was kind and forgiving and caring when he was beaten and tough when he needed me to be. And now...none of it’s left. I’m just...hollowed out.”

"And you think he will not be kind in turn?" Leia raised an eyebrow. "If he sees you beaten and wounded and hollow, he won't be forgiving and caring?"

She stood slowly and began to pace.

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but no sound could escape for a long moment.

“...I would hope so. But how can I be sure? How can I trust that he will?”

_How can I trust again?_

"I can't pretend to know my son as he is today. But I knew who he was, or at least I do now, in the harsh glare of hindsight. I know now that you two are more than just united by the Force. There is a lot you two share. And this hollowness...I know it too."

Leia looked out the viewport over the dark vastness beyond the _Holdo_ .

"I felt that way when I lost my planet. My family, my home, my life was gone in an instant. And I felt I was hollow. Bruised. But I was rescued by two strange men who were kind and noble, if not a little...odd. I lost everything, but I turned to the Rebellion, and my heart was filled."

She strolled back to the table.

"Ben's...Ben's emptiness was constructed over time. He loved his father and me so dearly, that it crushed him every time we had to leave. Which was often, unfortunately. And it's a lot to ask a child to understand because while you can have droids feed, bathe, and play with them, ultimately, they can only do so much to maintain a person's heart. And poor Ben...the more Han and I went away, the less he was able to recover from his sorrows. His hollowness grew, and I was too busy to see it until it was too late. I thought Luke could stop it, but it had already consumed him. And I can say it was Snoke, but I know I have no one to blame but myself for losing that part of Ben, the part that loved and loved and wanted to be loved back."

Leia's eyes held Rey's, even as hazel flickered anxiously around the perimeter of the General’s face, reluctant to stay still and let the pain be seen.

"You were our prisoner. You lost your home. You lost your friends. This hollowness is not new. You've felt it before."

“I just...” Rey’s voice was a choking gasp. “I don’t know how to come back from it. When I was no one in the desert, it didn’t hurt as much. But then I became someone. Someone I was proud to be. And now...now she’s gone and I’m no one again. I don’t know how to go back to where I was.”

“You know, you’re right,” Leia said slowly. “You can’t go back. But you also can’t be that scavenger, because you’ve experienced too much to be that girl again. You felt the Force, and you knew you couldn’t go back. You have been tempered by the desert sun and other fires more sweet and painful since you left. You’ll never be what you were before.”

Carefully, Leia bent to meet Rey on her level. 

“I will own up to my responsibility for what happened to you. I helped hollow you out. It seems to be a habit of mine, and I will carry that regret until the day I die. But you know now what you can be. And while you can’t be that again, you can grow beyond it. You can be more than you ever were. You don’t have to be no one again, but who or what you become is up to you.”

Leia offered her hand to Rey.

She exhaled a slow breath, hesitating at the touch, staring at the General’s wrinkled palm. 

_Take the chance, little one. This is what you do. Adapt. Survive. Fight._

Gingerly, Rey reached out and took Leia’s hand. 

“Then let’s turn me into someone new,” she murmured.

Leia smiled sadly, squeezing Rey’s fingers. 

“I believe you can do this, Rey. If you have any second thoughts, just say the word.”

“I can’t have any second thoughts. It’s too late for that now,” Rey replied blankly. “All that matters is getting him back.”

_And whatever happens after that..._

She sighed and shook the thought from her head. Then she bestowed a small smile in return to Leia.

“I believe you said something about a dress?” she said shyly.

Leia nodded, then hastened off to the closet.

"You know what you're doing at the gala, though, correct?" she asked over her shoulder. "Do you know what to do when you encounter him, and how you plan to leave?"

Rey hesitated, flushing.

“Uh, well...not in any exact terms, per se,” she stammered. “Figured I’d, erm...speak to him privately?”

Leia jerked around, her eyebrows raised.

"So in other words, you have no idea what to do when you see him "

“I work better in the moment!” Rey shot back indignantly.

Then she paused, her voice softening.

“When I see him...I’ll know what to do.”

Leia sighed.

"I'm just worried about you. Both of you. I wish there is more I could do, but just making sure you're as prepared as you can be..."

Leia shook her head.

"You'll be armed. Don't worry about that. Just when you get Ben, when you have him alone, you have to promise me you will do one thing and one thing only."

“What’s that?”

"Run," she said. "Run like hell. Get Ben to the ship and just get out of there, both of you. You will be relatively unknown. He's the guest of honor; he isn't granted the luxury of blending in. The moment he is seen with you, things get tricky, so I don’t know how much time you’ll be able to steal away. That’s why you will have to bolt from there as soon as you can."

Leia crossed the room again. She would not face Rey. "And if he won't go with you...you know what you must do."

Rey nodded solemnly.

“I understand, General.”

Leia nodded.

"Then let's get you dressed."

Rey stood and moved toward the closet, tugging absently at the sleeves of the dressing robe to cover her binders.

“Something with sleeves perhaps? To hide the wrist situation?”

Leia tugged on a number of hangers, half holding flight suits, half holding gowns.

"I have just the one."

Leia selected a garment bag and draped it carefully over the bed.

“I hope you like it. It hasn’t fit me in years, and we might need to take it in a bit, but…” Leia smiled. “I think it’s very you. Or the you you will be tonight.”

Rey ran her fingers delicately over the bag. “Sounds perfect.”

Then a thought occurred to her.

“Leia?” Her voice sounded tiny and so very young.

"Yes?" Leia watched her companion curiosity.

“...would you...braid my hair?”

Leia froze. She smiled and nodded.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Rey nodded and glanced at the garment bag with growing curiosity. She tentatively opened it just a peek toward the bottom and her eyes widened at what she found.

In a dress like that, she just might have a chance at turning anyone back to the Light.

She twisted the manacles around her wrists nervously and let her mind fill the folds of fabric.

Who was the woman she would be in this dress? Confident or quiet? Sensual or demure? Fiery or smoldering?

Rey or Viré?

She slid her fingers over one sheer sleeve, silently thankful that Ben wouldn’t have to see the wreck of skin and bones that hid beneath her binders.

Leia gestured to the bed. "Sit. If we want to get you into this without tearing the sleeves, we have to get you out of those clunky things." 

Rey obeyed, sitting beside the gown on the edge of the bed. 

The General eyed Rey gently.

“I assume I have nothing to worry about regarding my own personal safety when these come off, but if you would feel better, we can put them on again once you get dressed.”

Rey bit her lip, her fingers twisting in her lap.

"I would never dream of hurting you, General. Not after the kindness you've shown me," she mumbled.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Leia's face, still unable to fully look the only mother figure she'd ever known in the eye.

"They have to come off at some point. It may as well be sooner rather than later."

Even so, she couldn't quite bring herself to move her heavy hands.

Leia offered hers.

"One step at a time," she murmured gently. "I know you can do it."

Rey clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking as she went to take Leia’s.

“I don’t know if I can keep him out,” she whispered.

"Let me help you. I’m no Jedi, but...I'm good at feeling things, at least. I can ease you into it, try to take some of the burden from you."

Leia squeezed Rey's roughened hand in hers.

“Thank you...” Rey croaked, swallowing her sudden nausea.

She exhaled in a long steady stream of air.

“I think...I think I’m ready.”

Leia nodded. "I'm right here. Just relax." She withdrew one hand from Rey’s, grabbed the key, and lightly tapped on the lock on the binder.

"Focus."

She pulled the cuff off carefully.

Rey whimpered, her face crumpling as the cacophony began. She breathed through the roiling riot of color and sound and as the Force exploded into the empty spaces inside her.

She could feel Leia, sturdy and sure and warm as a thick blanket in the Force. She reached out for the General, anchoring to her stability.

Leia took slow, deep breaths.

"Hold onto me, Rey," she said softly, eyes closed. "You're doing great. Try to feel what I'm feeling. Concentrate. You can do this."

Rey matched her breathing to Leia’s, easing her racing heartbeat back down to a more manageable rate. It was a slow process, but after a while, it started to return to the way that the Force had felt when she first awakened: like cold clay, malleable but stubborn and waiting to be warmed up.

She flexed her senses and stretched into the serene pool of thought and emotion that was Leia Organa.

Leia's mind scanned the ship as if it were leisurely exploring all the pockets of the Force around as one might stroll through the garden. Here, she was in the quarters next door. Then she was across the hall, peering into a holochess game between two captains, the Force coiled and tense and focused. Then it was in a conference room debating ship deployment. So many numbers! So much stress! Then the Force was light and happy as it settled in the crew lounge, pilots swapping stories of victories long past. And then they returned to the room, and the Force stopped at Leia herself.

Rey sighed softly.

“You love them all, don’t you?” she whispered, entranced. “Every last person on this ship is like your family. Your heart is so big, Leia...so open and loving...”

"It took a while to get me here, but yes, this is my family." In Leia's mind, Rey could see a parade of memories, many of grief: a planet exploding before her eyes. Young Han Solo vanishing into the ground as smoke clouded her vision. The escape from Crait. A jeering Senate hall filled with shouting, accusing politicians, yelling at her about being the daughter of Darth Vader. The sensation of life in her belly, of light in the Force, and a shadow, dark and deep, clouding that light.

Then a flurry of images of a child, a dark-haired boy, whose every smile was tainted by another memory of darkness, of shredded bedclothes and smashed furniture, and the little boy screaming in rage too big for his tiny body.

A final memory slipped in. Ben Solo, a tall, lanky teenager, all pale skin and dark hair and protruding ears, stood on a landing pad. Behind him was the unmistakable figure of Luke Skywalker, clad in his white Jedi robes. Ben had a small bag slung over his shoulder. His hands fidgeted with the strap. His eyes avoided his parents.

 _“We love you, Ben. You're going to be amazing,”_ Leia's voice echoed. Ben’s expression remained distant.

 _”Hey, it's not forever, kid,”_ Han said. _”After a few days, you're probably not gonna want to come back to visit us when your uncle gives you a break.”_

Ben nodded slowly, but Rey couldn't miss the slight furrow to his brow. He was trying not to cry.

Without another word, Leia stepped forward and embraced her son one more time. Ben almost crumpled in her arms.

 _"Please, Mom, I can't...I don't wanna go away..."_ he muttered into her shoulder. Leia curled a hand against the back of his head and drew him closer to her, his face buried in her shoulder.

_"It'll be good for you, Ben. No more nightmares. You'll be able to control what's hurting you."_

They stood still for a moment. Ben sniffled slightly. Leia drew his face away so she could look into it. His eyes and nose were both red. He was trying so hard to be brave for his parents.

_“I'll call as often as I can. But it's time. Go. You can finally become who you were meant to be. Know that wherever we are, your father and I love you, and are very proud of you."_

She cupped Ben's cheek in her hand and hot tears flowed down her own cheeks.

_"You're going to do amazing things."_

Rey tried to pull back abruptly from the vision, but Leia wouldn’t let her tear out of her mind. She eased her back into reality with gentle pressure and a warm hand.

Rey swallowed thickly, a tear dried on her cheek. The Force was a distant hum in the back of her head.

“...he was so young,” she whispered.

Leia nodded sadly.

"It is my deepest regret. I thought sending Ben away would enable him to calm the conflict he already felt. It had been chipping away at him since birth. He had that streak of Darkness in him even before he was born..."

She shook her head before her memories took her too far away from Rey.

"He was so lost, and so, so scared. I wonder, had I let him stay, if things would have been different. Maybe I was too focused on the New Republic, and things would have only been worse. He might have felt isolated, resentful that he didn't know his power, but now...I know what he's done, all the harm he has caused. And every day I wonder if I caused it."

She withdrew a hand from Rey's to demurely blot a tear on her cheek.

"I hope we can make it right. He deserved so much better than I could give."

Rey nodded, her expression suddenly determined. She held the image of that boy at the forefront of her mind.

Ben Solo. So lost in his own troubles. So bruised by his own mind. So like her.

She squeezed Leia’s hand in hers, quick and fierce.

“I’ll get him back,” she said solemnly, partly an oath to his mother and partly an oath to herself. “He won’t be alone again.”

She gave the General’s hand one final squeeze and let go, hissing slightly at the new sensation of cool air on her bared flesh. She watched the red and purple skin shift and stretch as she rotated her wrists experimentally, testing the limits of her pain.

Leia nodded, smiling sadly.

"How are you feeling?"

Rey's fingers flexed again and a phantom breeze wafted a few layers of skirts delicately into the air.

"Less empty."

"Good. And the galaxy? How does it feel?"

"...like home."

"Hand me my tea cup," Leia commanded casually.

The cup floated slowly into the General's waiting hand. Rey sighed, a small smile of relief quirking her lips up and softening her eyes.

"Feels like stretching a limb after a long sleep," she murmured.

A sharp little whisper in her head reminded her that she was exposed now, that he could find her and derail the whole plan. All she could do was sink further into the warmth of Leia’s gentle Force signature, letting it wrap around her, shielding her from the galaxy that threatened to consume her. She remembered the fog that Ben had been unable to break through on Takodana. Perhaps Leia could be her camouflage for the time being. 

"And your mind? Is it your own?" Leia took a careful sip.

Shoulders rolled and the knots in Rey's neck popped as she shifted her bones back to rightness under her skin. She closed her eyes and surveyed her insides.

She could hear her own breath again, her own heartbeat, strong and sure in her chest. A strange peace settled over her.

"It has never been anyone else's. And it's quiet. Not silent, the way it was before. No...now it's just quiet."

Leia nodded, sitting her cup down on the floor.

"Quiet...quiet is good." Rey couldn't be sure if the General was speaking from her own experience with the Force, or her son's. "Are you ready?"

Rey opened her eyes, meeting Leia’s stare with determination.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay fine it's time for the ball are you happy now
> 
> This nonsense is Hugo Award-winning and we won't let you forget it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It has been too long,” he said in a voice that was unequivocally his own.
> 
> Her eyes flicked up to him.

Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.  
Tell her my love...

Twelfth Night, or What You Will, II.IV 76-78

* * *

 

"I have been ill with a fever," Dwane repeated dutifully, a strange smirk on his lips as his friend laughed. "Lady Viré nursed me back to health just in time for the gala. She simply could not stand to miss it."

Dwane stuck to his story well. The mind trick was impressively effective. Rey could relax at that, at least.

She smiled thinly. "Really, Dwane, I fear that you're vastly overstating my healing abilities," she cooed, inching incrementally away from the hand that was trying to rest on her lower back.

"And wherever did you find this lovely creature?" asked Dwane’s friend, a humanoid creature with impressive facial protrusions and a haughty gaze.

"Well I'm afraid that is a very poorly kept secret," Rey tittered. "And if you don't know it by now, you never will."

The gentleman chuckled and turned to Dwane.

"What a treasure," he said, as if the woman in question was not even there.

"I am certainly lucky," Dwane said. "Beautiful and charming! I'm almost concerned she is too good for me."

The gentleman, a Marquis of some sort, quickly diverted the conversation to the most lamentable drought on his planet's moon, and Dwane, reaching the end of the Force's control, slipped back into an amiable, lively conversation with his companion.

There were still a number of couples in line ahead of them to be announced.

Rey listened with half an ear to the conversation, turning her focus instead to the crowd of party-goers around her. Most of the invitees seemed to be humanoid, with the exception of a small cluster of tall reptilian beings which she didn't have a name for. She didn't dare to slip into the Force to gauge the particulars of each individual. 

She missed Ben’s reassuring voice in her mind, guiding her, comforting her, praising her as they faced the galaxy’s elite together. The crush of bodies and the presence of so many others after so complete a solitude had been overwhelming at first, but she had managed to center herself, clinging onto the Force as her ballast, careful to control the breadth of her presence. She couldn’t leave a trace of herself. Not yet.

Casually eyeing her surroundings, she tried to memorize any points of egress she could find and made an accounting of every 'trooper or First Order officer that caught her attention. She noted with a plunging twist in her stomach that the ship was, obviously, swarming with Stormtroopers.

The line shuffled forward at a decent pace, drawing her closer and closer to the main hall and her target.

As his conversation drew to a close, Dwane's hand lingered by the small of Rey's back once more.   


She twisted delicately away from the offending appendage, deciding to nip that particular invasion in the bud by winding her arm through his in preparation for their entrance.

Everything else up until this point had flowed smoothly. She had awakened Dwane just moments before they entered the range of the First Order, and their invitation code was accepted without hesitation. She had implanted Force memories in his mind  and had given him an eagerness to attend the party with her on his arm. She couldn't say she felt the same.

Soon after, the pilot landed the shuttle into the prescribed hangar, and Emfor and Aytar waved her off, dread coiling in her stomach.

As they inched closer to the massive doors leading into the hall, the anxiety only deepened.

Just on the other side of that thin piece of durasteel sat the man she had loved and lost. The one she had torn herself asunder to protect. She could feel him now without even trying, his Force signature curled like a slumbering dragon at the far end of the space. She couldn’t pick out specifics without alerting him to her presence, and even now, moments away from seeing him again after months apart, she was terrified of what he would find in her. She couldn’t bear the inevitable hurt and pity she would find on his face.

“Ready to go, darling?” Dwane crooned into her ear. The doors swept open and he tugged her forward.

She couldn’t answer. Her body moved without her willing it to.

“Master Dwane Soruta of Coruscant and Lady Viré Tasolis of Naboo,” called the announcer.

They stepped over the threshold. The air left the room.

There was Ben on the other side.   


He jerked his head up almost instantly, his eyes bright and suddenly desperate over his muzzle-like mask as he followed her down the grand stairs.

She took a shuddering, gasping breath as she moved, schooling her face into a look of cool, haughty indifference. She tried to remember how she had done this before on Canto Bight. How had she been able to ignore all of these curious, envious, jaded expressions? Then, she had melted into the shadows, ensconced in the darkness that radiated off of Kylo Ren. Now...now, she felt like nothing short of an open wound, bleeding and raw and exposed to their prying eyes. She kept her own fixed firmly on the ground in front of her, shuttered and inscrutable. Too many faces leering at her again, too many eyes to see herself in. She was too open, too visible. 

And yet, a small part of her ached to be seen. It was the shard of Rey that still lingered in the rain-soaked forest, bare and uncaring to the eyes of the trees and her Ben. On the inside, her heart and mind were at war.   


She could see the tension in his muscles from here, coiled and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her exposed skin like a brand and she shivered slightly.

He shifted imperceptibly forward in his onyx throne, scanning her from head to toe. His hands flexed against the arms of the throne, a feral, crouched beast.   


An officer approached him. He didn't turn, eyes locked on the descending couple.

“My Lady, are you well?” asked Dwane, a thousand klicks away, still guiding her down the steps.    


Rey was jerked back into herself, realizing that her nails were digging into the fabric of his sleeve.    


“Oh,” she breathed, “yes, I’m fine. But I hate these grand entrances. So many stairs.”   


She tried to make a joke but the coy smile didn’t reach her eyes.

"Really?" Dwane purred. "You seem to handle them like a professional."   


Ben’s heart was hammering so loudly in his chest he was afraid the entire hall would start to echo with his frantic heartbeat.

Rey.   


She was extraordinary. She seemed every inch a goddess on those stairs, tall and beautiful in a sweeping, crimson gown. The bodice hugged her sides, layers of  deep red chiffon, layers of blood and fire, flaring out behind her as she descended. The gossamer fabric draped off her shoulders and wrapped around her arms, ending delicately at her wrists. Her hair was braided back from her face, which bore a modest application of makeup, blood-red lipstick, and a look of cultivated disdain.   


The impossibility of it all rattled him. Rey had been a void in the galaxy for months until only the other day when she had been too afraid of him to reopen the bond, and vanished back into nothingness again. He had last seen her forced to her knees before the Resistance, blasters trained on her head. And now she was here, resplendent in this nest of vipers, catching him completely off-guard.

_ Lady Viré _ , echoed in the room, a susurration of melding voices and his own riotous thoughts. It was  code only the two of them could have possibly known. A name he had given her, a mask of shadow and smoke for the unknown woman who accompanied him on Canto Bight. She had risen from the ashes of the ballroom with a purpose. There was a reason Viré had returned. 

He briefly entertained denial as he watched her proudly sweep down the grey durasteel steps; he remembered Rey's gloved hand resting on his arm as they slowly processed down a much longer set of stairs, the way they had conversed wordlessly, whispering encouragement in each other’s minds. 

It couldn’t be her, he thought, not so soon after she had cut ties with him again. It didn’t make sense for her to be here if she wanted nothing to do with him. But he knew her, knew the way the Force sang her presence, knew how her proximity felt. It didn’t matter the name, the mask she wore; that was Rey.

She was a Force vision, then. A ghost, as Anakin had been. Surely he had gone mad.

_ Trust your eyes, little starfighter _ . He could almost hear Anakin taunting him.  _ They might be all you can trust. _   


He finally noticed her guest.   


Soruta.

This was no dream. This was a nightmare. A waking nightmare.  _ Rey wouldn’t do this. She knew that Soruta had insulted her, had insulted both of them. He had felt her cool rage as they had confronted him for his slights on Canto Bight. But why was she here? _

He had been so faithless, so weak, unable to act. Maybe this was the Force punishing him for his months of doubt.   
He reached out a tentative tendril of the Force, but before he could brush against her mind, a secretary stood before him, introducing another. The sudden presence jarred Ben and he turned his head to dismiss the interrupter soundly.   
However, the sudden apparition was sufficient to shake himself out of his thoughts for a moment, and he glowered at those interrupting his reverie. 

Rey almost stumbled as she felt the presence of his mind nearly brushing against hers, soft and tender as a lover and just as deadly. She trembled, wishing more than anything that she could run to him that instant and take him in her arms, take him back into her mind. He was so close, all she had to do was reach out for him. All she had to do was take him back.   


She had missed that sweet pressure in her skull. She had missed the way that black-brown eyes felt brushing over her skin. She had missed...everything about him.    


Rey pushed the thought away as gently as she could as she descended the last few steps.   


_ Not yet, please, _ she thought silently to herself.    


“Well, now that that’s over with,” she quipped coquettishly, “how do I look?” 

“Like the Queen of Naboo herself,” her partner purred.

She chuckled. “Careful, Mister Soruta. I’ll thank you not to make any enemies for me. I’m perfectly capable of handling that myself.”

Dwane swept her along the side of the large, empty dance floor, passing numerous round tables of chatting guests, some of them turning to appraise the passing couple or greet Dwane as he passed. He guided his date to a table along the edge of the hall, in seats that allowed them to scan the entire room. His selection, Rey thought, was not unintentional. 

He pulled out a chair for her, inviting her to sit.   


Ben's eyes had returned to her; he watched her move through the room with a ragged grace that was distinctly Rey. 

He couldn’t mistake it.   


And now his eyes couldn't leave her despite the business he had to attend to.

"Would you like me to get you a drink, my lady?"

“A drink sounds lovely, Dwane, thank you,” she said sweetly.    


“Anything to my Lady’s preference?”   


“Surprise me,” Rey said in dismissal.   


Soruta raised her hand to his lips before she could stop him. She suppressed a shudder and did not return his gaze. He did not notice, but swept away to the bar.    


Rey exhaled a controlled breath, trying to melt into the crowd at the fringes of the dance floor as much as possible.    


She had to think. Now that she knew where she was and who was here and what she had to work w—   


Another gentle press against her mind. One she could no longer ignore.

Ben had shivered at the sight of Dwane Soruta kissing Lady Viré’s hand.   


He knew the coward’s thoughts, remembered the vile things he had spat at Rey on Canto Bight. Even if this was a nightmare, a hallucination, he couldn’t bear to see Soruta touching a woman, knowing what lurked in his head…   


He reached out his mind again, just a small spear of the Force, a gentle gust, and there. There it was.    


Feeling Ben’s insistent shove against her mind, she flicked her eyes up to the throne and its occupant.   


He met the lady’s stare, and despite the distance in the hall, he could not mistake the eyes looking back at him. 

Rey.  _ His _ Rey. She was here.

_ Told you,  _ Anakin’s voice teased him.

Her Force signature was soothing and familiar; the only real thing in this room. He wanted to stop the whole gala, freeze everything and everyone in place, just so he could indulge in the bliss of feeling Rey again. Here. Alive.   


He didn’t care about Soruta or Viré or anything else in that moment; his heart knew only relief.

Her chest rose faintly with her sharp intake of breath. There would be no hiding now, no shadows she could disappear into. Not now that he had seen her. Her heart stumbled in her breast, unsure of how to react to this new reality. Her eyes seemed to trail down his face, taking in the desperation of his own gaze, and the muzzle that silenced him. Rey shivered and averted her stare, focusing in on the viewport just over his shoulder. Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt him watching her. She was still barely clinging to scraps of herself, she couldn’t let those vulnerabilities slip free of her eyes. She shifted slightly, a bird that knew her predator had caught her scent.

Ben stood abruptly.

His stomach began to flutter. He was suddenly drawn to her, a magnet to her pure steel.    


"My Lord?" Hux said, striding over to him. "Is something wrong?"   


H e froze. He could stride over to her right now and destroy everything. He could not keep up the facade and approach her. He'd unravel publicly.    


But would it be worth it?   


Hux was standing too near.    


He could not know.    


"All is well," Ben said. "I...I thought I saw...no. It's nothing."   


He slunk back down into his seat. 

Another guest approached to greet him. It was as if his outburst never happened.   


Still, his heart raced.

Rey let go of the breath she had been holding. He had looked like he had been about to approach her. 

What if he had? Oh, stars, what if he had…

She wasn’t ready for this. She hadn’t anticipated the enormity of this undertaking. 

While Ben half-listened to the introduction of Master Piyeto of the mining guild, all he could think about was Rey—Viré—and how easily she had brushed him off, how willingly she let her eyes alight on everything and everyone else in the room. She seemed to look right through him, her expression closed off and carefully cool. Gone was the warmth, the tenderness, the glowing love from her face. It had all frozen over, her expression ice cold and beautiful. 

Was she gloating? Was her life that much better now that he was gone from it? 

And though he let his disdainful stare rest on those in front of him, all he could think was how dearly he wished Rey would see him, look at him again. Swear him off to his face so he could likewise stop wasting away in want of her.

They were only a few yards away from each other, in the same room, and he could not reach her; he was trapped in this prison of his own devising once again.

Yet he was not powerless, he realized with something like delight. There was still a way he could connect to her...   


“My Lady?” came a voice from Rey’s elbow.    


Dwane had reappeared with a flute of liquid the shade of sun-drenched rubies.    


“Oh! Thank you, Mister Soruta,” she said distractedly, taking the glass.

“I hope you weren’t too terribly bored in my absence,” he crooned.    


He lifted his own glass. “A toast to new beginnings!”

“To old friends,” she murmured in reply.

He clinked his glass with hers and took a hearty swig. When he finished, he noticed his companion hadn't consumed any of hers. She looked distractedly away.

"My Lady, it is bad luck to neglect your toast."

“Hm?” She turned back to him with a dazed expression. “Oh, excuse me...”

She took a delicate sip and smiled blandly before her eyes glazed over again.

Dwane leaned in close. "You seem distracted, my Lady. Are you well?"

His eyes followed hers to the dais.

"He cannot get you, Viré. Not while I am here."

She scoffed quietly, her smile turning bitter. 

“I did not think you would be so naive, Dwane,” she purred. “ _ He _ is everywhere.”

Dwane blanched. "Do you fear that you are...unsafe in his presence?”

She took another sip of her wine. 

“In a manner of speaking.”

"Then we shall not present ourselves to him," Dwane said with a decisive smack to the table. "Certainly he will not single us out amongst the other guests."

“You would risk a slight to him?”

Dwane took another long swig. "I would not risk the comfort of my date."

Part of her wanted to be flattered by Dwane’s attempt at gallantry. The other part of her was pushing her to get as close to Ben as possible. And she couldn’t do that without the two of them making their greetings to the Supreme Leader. She would have to find another way to get close to him.

At the front of the hall, the Supreme Leader had summoned an officer to him, and he conversed very closely with him. Rey was not oblivious to the sudden drop in the volume of conversation as the officer stepped off the dais and began to weave his way through the crowd. Guests turned to watch and whisper.   


He wove through the crowd, and approached Rey and Dwane.    


“Master Soruta. My Lady,” he said, addressing each in turn. “The Supreme Leader wishes to speak with you.”    


“Does he now?” Dwane asked. “What for?”

Others turned to watch the exchange. Rey felt the eyes burning against her skin.   


“The Supreme Leader noted that you failed to present yourself to him, and he wishes to greet you properly before the festivities get well underway,” the officer dutifully replied. 

Onlookers tittered at the rebuke. These fools had neglected the Supreme Leader! They couldn’t wait to see his wrath.    


Rey took a sip of her drink and tried to swallow her nerves down with the alcohol.    


She rose, directing her attention and a smile to the young man. “Thank you, we will be with Lord Ren presently.”

The officer snapped a terse bow and skittered off into the crowd.

Dwane scurried behind her to pull the chair away as she stood.

“Well, no use in putting it off,” she said, half to herself and half to her companion. 

Dwane sniffed, smiling smarmily at her as he offered her his arm. "You know, I'm not sure how many of us genuinely are delighted to see Lord Ren alive, or how many came just to see what was left of him. Many of us find the Supreme Leader...disagreeable."

“Ah, but with this many guests, I assume that the galaxy’s finest didn’t want to pass up a free party.” She slipped her hand reluctantly into his elbow and they swept across the empty dance floor toward the dais. The whole hall seemed to turn to witness the shaming of Dwane Soruta and his unknown date at the feet of the Supreme Leader. Eyes and whispers pressed in on Rey’s mind and body. Their gazes were bruising on her sensitive nerve endings, their murmurs even harder to bear. She tried to focus on something else, on her mission, on Leia’s reminders to breathe through the discomfort. But again and again her thoughts returned to the shadow on the throne. Her lover. Her Ben.

If he still was her Ben. 

Ben's eyes never left Rey as she glided toward him, flawless and ringed in flame. The closer she approached, the better he could see her, and he was stricken by just how surreal it felt to be in her presence again.  _ She’s here. _ So soon after he believed he would never see her again...   


His mask was not enough. He was sure he was translucent, naked before his officers and the assembled guests, his excitement raw and palpable, but he kept his regal posture.

And then as she approached, his eyes drifted towards Soruta. He was sure that others could feel him bristling, the Force charged with his anger.   


He gripped the arms of the throne tightly. It was all he could do to keep himself together.   


_ Easy, little starfighter. Don’t blow it now.  _

Dwane led her forward, her eyes lowered demurely. They stopped before the throne. Soruta folded himself into a deep bow, and Rey sank lightly to the floor in a perfect curtsy.    


“My Lord,” he intoned. “We are honored to be invited to your celebration. We are both deeply heartened to see you alive and well after your ordeal.”

“And yet you neglected to pay me a proper greeting,” the Supreme Leader growled. “Have you anything to say for yourself in that regard?”

Dwane stammered a series of weak apologies and flatteries that Rey knew weren’t meant. She tried not to roll her eyes at the display.   


For her part, Rey said nothing, still nearly on her knees before Ben and his obsidian seat of power.

He was beautiful seated on that hateful throne. A king in his own right, a god of death and wrath and all of the dark and beautiful things that he had whispered to her body as they had entwined. His clothes were fine and black, shot through with delicate strands of silver and faintly glimmered when he moved. He was a predator with a crown, a barely muzzled beast with a whisper-thin line of self control. 

"Enough," he boomed dismissively. "You are welcome. Soruta, I must say I’m surprised you even survived our last encounter to make this slight against me.”   


The Coruscanti sputtered something that could have been a reply, but Ben wasn’t paying any mind.

He turned to Rey then, entranced by the way her skirts flared around her, a pool of blood spreading out against the slate grey floor. A jewel the same shade as her lips glittered wetly in the intricate coils and braids of her hair. Breathtaking.

"Lady Viré," he said, in the low, mechanical rumble. "Rise."

She unfolded from her curtsy, her eyes still respectfully downcast.  _   
_

Her words came to him suddenly, a memory pulsing through his head like a drumbeat.

_ I wish I could have you,  _ Rey had whispered into his mind. _ No more masks, no more hiding, no more fighting. _

_ No more masks, no more hiding, no more fighting. _

_ No more masks. _ _   
_

Without thinking further, his gloved fingers reached along his jaw and felt for the release. He pried his mask off carefully.

“It has been too long,” he said in a voice that was unequivocally his own.   


Her eyes flicked up to him.

This was not the elegant tyrant of moments before. This was Ben. All of his masks had come off now, and his eyes held her like a tractor beam in his scrutiny. She couldn’t look away, even as she felt like prey under his gaze. 

The rest of the room, the rest of the galaxy, it all fell away. There was only Ben, only Rey, two sides of a broken coin, unable to touch. It was a balm and a torment in the same instant. She breathed silently for a beat, willing the expression on her face to remain neutral, even as he watched her with those sharp, ever-observing eyes. She couldn’t let him see. Not yet. Not here.   


“My Lord Ren...” she murmured softly.    


_ I’ve missed you I’ve missed you I’ve missed you. _   


“Indeed it has been far too long. Your safe return to power is an answer to my prayers.”   


He wondered if she could see his heartbeat causing his whole body to pulse. It was her voice, her real voice, not a figment of his imagination, not a cruel little rock manipulating him back to the Light. It was really her, really here. 

The room around them started to buzz. He could feel the shock of his officers around him, distantly hear the whispers that suddenly followed from beyond the dais.   


_ Is that… _ _   
_

_ Why would he— _ _   
_

_ He’s so strange! _ _   
_

_ He’s human. I told you. _ _   
_

_ What was the mask for? _ _   
_

_ He’s whole. _

With a deep breath, he silenced the noise around him so he could focus on Rey, only on Rey. The rest of the room could fall away for all he cared, but he still had to play this role. _   
_

“I...I had a powerful ally who ensured my constant care and safe return, thank you,” he said, realizing after he spoke just how soft his words sounded. He leaned forward, closer to her, just barely closer. “And I see you, too, are well?”   


She struggled to swallow, to breathe, to think. She was mere feet away from him and she couldn’t touch him. Stars, was this just one more punishment for her treason?

“As well as can be expected,” she said nonchalantly. Even in another woman’s skin, she couldn’t outright lie to him.

He knew it was coming.  _ Here it is, the moment I unravel in front of the First Order.  _ He could only hold out for so long.   


In the silence, he reached out desperately through the Force once more to Rey. He needed to speak to her in private. His mind sought out the comfort of hers. He needed to feel solace, forgiveness, the cleansing of his months of loneliness and sorrow. He needed to feel home. 

Rey felt Ben’s silent plea in her mind and her heart creaked with the effort it took to keep from breaking. She couldn’t do this here. Not now. She couldn’t let him in; if she did, she wouldn’t be able to suppress the floodgates from opening. 

She pushed him away gently. 

“Are you enjoying your party, my Lord?” she asked, her voice strained and prim.   


He hoped she didn’t notice the small gasp of shock he emitted, but he tried quickly to regain his composure. He cleared his throat.   


“I can’t say I am, my Lady,” he said shakily, eyes drifting out slowly to stare at the dancefloor, the guests, his shocked officers. Anything but her.   


“Parties have never been my forte. But if others are eager to celebrate my return, I will not...I will not begrudge them.” 

“How gracious, Lord Ren.” She nearly flinched at the title; it felt so wrong.  “Well, I hope you at least find some joy in it. As I recall, you and I danced a few songs on Canto Bight, when last we met.”   


She had prevented him from entering her mind.   


_ Maybe this...this is what she wants. _ _   
_

He tried to brush the thought aside, but he felt his chest beginning to burn with anger. Not at her, never toward her, but at himself. His own foolishness.   


He turned his face away.   


“So we did. Though I don’t expect I shall dance tonight.”

She tamped down the pang of rejection that pricked below her breastbone. 

“Well,” she exhaled, slipping back into the mask of the aloof lady of ice. “It is my dearest hope that you still enjoy your celebration regardless, my Lord. We won’t keep you from the rest of your guests. By your leave.”

She tilted her head in a delicate bow, baring her graceful neck.    


He felt suddenly consumed by shame. He wanted to grab her, hold her, whisper into her ear every devotion he felt for her through their separation, all the worry that had controlled his mind in the months without her.   


But he just froze, wracked with guilt and regret.   


_ I ran. I have no claim to her now. _   


“Thank you, my Lady. Enjoy the party,” he said stiffly. “Master Soruta.” He dismissed them with a terse wave. Rey curtsied quickly, feeling Dwane dip into a bow beside her. 

He placed a hand on her back as she rose to guide her back to their table. Ben felt his rage flare up at this; he wanted to run to Rey and pry the man’s hands off her, but he was rooted to the spot. The man was touching her when he could not, and it took all of his strength not to flush in anger.

Rey, however, shied away from Dwane’s touch, her skin crawling where she could feel his fingers through the thin fabric of her gown. 

Ben sent a tendril of a memory toward Dwane: his hand around the slumlord’s throat.   


He saw the departing man wince as he received it, then he turned his gaze back to Rey, who departed in a swish of gossamer against durasteel next to a seething Dwane.

_ Don’t turn around, Rey,  _ she warned herself.  _ Don’t look back. _

Ben watched her go for far too long, before he remembered the cacophony of whispers and thoughts, and he glanced around, noticing there were still a few curious eyes on him.   


Right. His mask.   


He looked at the offensive black object in his hands, and Hux stalked towards him suddenly.    


“My Lord!” he said, flabbergasted. “What was the meaning of—”   


“Take this away.” Ben thrust the muzzle into Hux’s flustered face. “Masks are not appropriate formal wear.”   


Hux grabbed the mask with a start, and stalked away, sneering over his shoulder.   


Ben settled into the uncomfortable obsidian throne once more.   


His eyes never left the graceful flame floating through the room.

Rey had changed. She was no longer his.  She was now beautiful and cold and hateful.   


And he wanted her still.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ben,_ she longed to whisper back.
> 
> “...no,” was what escaped her instead, little more than a desperate hiss of sound between barely moving lips.

_ Who is she, anyway? What does he want with her? _

_ Surprised the two of them survived. Ren seemed pissed. _

_ Not THAT pretty, not prettier than me. Too thin. _

_ Wearing that much red? She must be loyal to the cause. _

_ Shit, who let Soruta in here? _

_ Supreme Leader wants to fuck her, you can just tell.  _

_ Poor girl. Caught the Supreme Leader’s eye. She’s not making it out of here alive. _

Rey’s head was pounding and her skin prickled uncomfortably as Dwane ensconced her once again at their table, still nattering away at the abysmal treatment he had received. She was only listening with half an ear, her mind reeling with new information to process.    
Ben had turned away. His usually observant eyes had left her. She hadn’t realized how much that would hurt. She had been so terrified of what he would see, and then he had blatantly refused to look. Perhaps it was for the best. 

_ I want to dance with you again. I want to hold you again, and not be afraid who sees. I want to know you will be mine, no matter how many planets separate us. I will be the one you always return to. _

He had promised so much in the forest. Too much. More shiny broken words to add to her collection. 

“...unbelievable, the nerve of that monst—“

“Hush, Dwane,” she mumbled with a faint flick of her finger. 

Soruta’s words gurgled to a stop and he sat mechanically, going for a blank-eyed sip of his wine.

The pain of Rey's rejection cooled from a spark of anguish into a dull throb of pain as Ben settled back into the routine greetings of his guests. They all seemed put off by his uncustomarily bare face. He was maimed but he was a man, they realized. Not a conventionally handsome one, but not as hideous as the mask may have lead them to believe. He had forgotten how much he valued the privacy of the shard of black metal covering his jaw. He felt unworthy eyes raking across his cheeks and mouth with a hungry, bold curiosity.

_ For you, Rey,  _ he thought towards the scornful, beautiful woman. _ Like I promised. No more masks. _   
He tried to scan his guests' minds, feel for their true intentions, their disdain laid bare, but now he couldn't focus. His eyes kept drifting off to the side to glance at her. Still, she would not look his way. His stomach roiled.

_ Why isn't it enough? _

She could feel it every time his gaze lingered on her, soft and burning all at once, like candlelight. It took everything she had not to meet each glance with one of her own. Had she been too subtle with her overture to dance? She was inexperienced in courtly manners, but surely he would have picked up on it?

"My Lord," Hux said, leaning to whisper in Ben’s ear. "Your guests await your address."

Ben froze. During the tumult of his journey and return, he had all but forgotten about it. He found these speeches weren't particularly hard for him when masked, probably because he had inherited an easy faux-confidence in addressing crowds from his mother, but now that he bare-faced, he knew his panic was raw, unfettered, and alarmingly visible.

"My address," he repeated quietly.

"Your supporters have come to see you in your power, my Lord," Hux bit out through his teeth. "Are you so unnerved? Should  _ I _ sit in your chair and play Supreme Leader instead?"

"You would love nothing more, I assume," Ben growled.

"What I  _ want _ ," the general hissed, "is the victory of the First Order, the power that  _ you _ , for whatever stars-forsaken reason, currently sit atop. By entropy, man, pull yourself together and be the damned Supreme Leader."

"I'm waiting for my introduction." 

Ben’s dismissal was met with a curl of cold fury in the Force.

Hux raised his eyes heavenwards and straightened with a nearly audible snap.

"As you command, my Lord Ren."

He stepped away for a moment, leaving the Supreme Leader to himself for one final moment.

Ben’s thoughts finally circled back to the situation at hand. He couldn’t stall this any longer. He had a part to play and this was the grim reminder that yes, there were other guests at this ball, lords and ladies and merchants and others who had been eager to see if the rumors of the Supreme Leader’s return were true.   


The only person he cared about was the one who knew the truth about him but refused to see him.

He brushed off the pernicious thought. He had to focus.   


He had read the prepared speech. He had given enough of them. It would be easy.

Hux raised a glass of that ruby red liquor and struck it, emitting a tinkling crystal chime out into the reception hall. The partygoers turned to face him, bland expressions watching with what might have been called rapt interest.

“Dear friends, loyal allies, it is my great honor to welcome you this evening.”

A smattering of polite applause filled the reception hall.

“Tonight, we celebrate the return of our great leader to his power. Tonight, the First Order is whole once again. Once more, our Supreme Leader has proven his might in the face of open rebellion and discord. Once more, he has returned to claim his power and lead the galaxy into a new era of order and prosperity. On this historic night, we acclaim the true sovereignty of our Supreme Leader; the indomitable, the unstoppable, the  _ unkillable _ Kylo Ren!”

The room burst into thunderous cheers. Hux gave an abbreviated bow and turned to face the throne. 

“Was that satisfactory, my Lord?” he sneered under his breath as he stood aside.

As Ben rose from the throne and strode forward, he felt the eyes turn to him and rake over his form. In his time as Supreme Leader, he had given many speeches, stood before many crowds. Been to a gala. Now as he stood before the room, it was as if the curtain over the whole affair was pulled back, revealing the farce of it all. On the surface, he was a leader addressing his most loyal and important subjects. Really, he was a reluctant ruler speaking to a room of wealthy fools who couldn’t care less for him, but sought this opportunity for greater self-advancement. Addressing pompous idiots arrayed in their finery didn’t make for might. This was not what real power looked like. 

He had felt the Force in the cavern with the Kyber crystals, flickering and fluttering beyond his fingertips. He had felt it on Ahch-To, a cave so powerful with Darkness that it made his longing manifest as the voice of a lover he had lost.

He had real power, known it at the hands of a small woman, risking her life to protect his, racing through a dense, dark forest to protect him from those who would end his life without a second thought. 

He fought to keep his gaze from that woman even now, lest she, too, see the idiocy of this performance.

It’s all so _ stupid _ , he thought.    


He opened his mouth to speak.   


His mouth, his lips. Unmasked.   


He schooled his face as carefully as he could to not show his discomfort.

None of this was real.

This was Hux’s world. This was where he thrived. 

This was what Kylo Ren thought he wanted.   


This was no longer the life Ben Solo craved.

He stared back at his guests for a moment, eyes wandering over frozen forms seated or standing to watch him speak. Bored aristocrats gazed over long-stemmed glasses and filled goblets. They were growing impatient with the interruption to the merriment.

He drew a deep breath and tried again, trying to silence his brutal thoughts and form the phrases he’d been trained to speak.

“Esteemed guests of the First Order.”   


Even though it was deep and projected easily from the dais, his voice felt so strange to him. He could hear the rawness in it, the nerves.

He sounded so fragile.

He thought of the speech he had perused on his datapad, of Hux’s words still ringing in his ears.

He thought of his reflection in his quarters, and the ghost beside him, guiding him.

And _ Force, _ he couldn’t care less about this speech.

His blood pounded in his head. He needed to say  _ something, anything _ , but his lexicon of powerful phrases felt almost comical.   
_ Say something. _   


“It is an honor and pleasure to have you all here tonight to celebrate my triumphant return.”   


He took another deep breath. The words on his tongue felt so stilted, so flimsy. False. He hated them.   


“It is with utmost gratitude that the First Order welcomes you.”   


He scanned the crowd again, and a bit of red caught his eye. He couldn’t face Rey’s disdain, not again.

She knew just as he did that any rousing speech about might and power and order were just flimsy words meant to rile up this crowd of sycophants.

She had to know he didn’t mean any of it.

He couldn’t keep this going.   


“Thank you. Enjoy the party.”

He quickly gestured for the orchestra to begin playing, and he turned around to head back to his throne to an awkward smattering of applause, desperately avoiding Hux’s gaze.

He knew there was no way he could recover from this in the eyes of the First Order, but getting thrown out of an airlock over this was far less painful than being their dancing monkey lizard anymore. 

What he wanted, who he wanted, was in this room. He wasn’t going to pretend otherwise anymore.

Rey’s heart jumped. She had to fight the smile that crept over her lips. She had heard Kylo Ren’s speeches before; this one felt distinctly like Ben Solo. It warmed her to see him refuse to rise to his general’s pronouncements, to see him in the seat of his power and decline to take anymore. It felt like she was seeing her Ben again. The soft-hearted, sarcastic moof-milker she’d fallen in love with.

And it gave her hope. The taste of it was sweet in her mouth. She could almost see the rest of the evening playing out. She would approach him subtly, try not to attract any more attention than necessary. She would ask him to dance. They would talk. They would run. They would return to the Resistance base and a grateful Leia Organa. They would get through the rest of it. Maybe they would even get through it together.

Her chest filled with warmth, but she tried not to let it blind her. They weren’t out of the Star Destroyer yet.

She needed to get back into his space, to take the measure of the mask he was wearing. Events like these were dances unto themselves. She was prepared to lead; she just needed to get him to follow.   


Faint music was beginning to pick up around the upper corners of the hall, lilting and tumbling over each durasteel surface. She downed the rest of her glass with an elegant toss of her head and turned a coquettish smile on her companion.    


“Dwane, darling, why don’t you invite me to dance?” she said coyly but firmly, less of a suggestion than an order.

"Of course, my sweet," he said with a carnal chuckle. 

She felt the Force around her sizzle with frustration. They were being watched.

_ Good,  _ Rey thought.

The music swelled, and Ben returned his gaze to the furious Hux before him, his face flushed with anger as he berated Ren for wasting this opportunity, for undermining the whole event. While he pretended to listen, his eyes kept darting to a blossom of red in the corner of the dance floor. Ben tried to tame the frustration rising in his chest. Rey whispered in the slum lord’s ear as they took their positions for the dance. Ben’s nails bit into the tips of his gloves as he curled his hands tight around the arms of his throne.   


_ No. _   


As the couple moved to the center of the dance floor, directly in front of him, he couldn't deny what he saw. The way Soruta placed his hands on her threatened to make his ears burn red with anger and shame. A pretty smile crossed her face as they began to follow the music.   


_ She doesn't belong to you, Supreme Leader. Not anymore. _

It was all too easy to slip into Dwane’s mind to find the right steps. The song was harsher than the waltz on Canto Bight had been, this one full of sharp strings and pointed beats. It was a dagger made of sound. And Rey knew that each step would cut the man watching her, drawing him out to her. 

But for each cut she gave, she received another in turn. 

Dwane pulled her in closer, his hand on her waist pawing hungrily at her, fingers buried in skin and gossamer. 

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming; the sticky heat and heavy pressure of his hands on her flesh set her nerve endings buzzing painfully. 

His eyes met hers, then wandered along her exposed shoulders and neck. A demonstration. A list of demands.

She shuddered in disgust, his gaze devoured her figure well past the bounds of propriety, spurred on by the dance and drink. She could practically hear every lascivious thought that ran through his head. He likely thought each shiver was one of pleasure rather than revulsion.

The press of the crowd around them was like getting stuck in an electrical storm, surrounded by singeing brushes of fabric and bodies; an arm here, a shoulder there, a bump at her back. She felt bruised all over, her skin stinging to the point of near tears. 

Stars, she didn’t want this.

But she had to endure. She had survived it all up until this point. She had to keep going, she had to get to Ben.

Dwane’s hand shifted to rest between her shoulder blades, right on the long, bare expanse of skin above the back of her dress.

“To think,” he whispered in her ear, “it has taken us so long to dance together.”

She twisted her head away from his hot, wine-tinted breath against her cheek, trying to make the motion look nonchalant and elegant, like part of the dance rather than a desperate escape.

“Indeed,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse with suppressed discomfort. “I can’t believe it.”

“I have wanted this for so long,” he panted. “Wanted you.”   


His hand was iron, controlling more than guiding. Branding her.

She tasted copper, a scream rising like bile in her throat. 

“Is that so?” She tried to breathe steadily through her nose, but her breaths came shallowly in his tight grip. “How patient you have been.”

She needed to get away from him or she might break each and every finger that currently snaked over her skin.

Ben was afraid his jaw might crack from how hard he was clenching it. Rey was barely a breath apart from Dwane, flowing into the dark rhythm of the song. His hands wandered her with bold abandon. She permitted it. Did she welcome it?

With each flash of red, he was reminded of the pressure of her slender, muscular form against him on a different dance floor, now covered with ash and rubble. How she had drawn so close to him. How she whispered in his ear. How their hands learned each other in secret stolen touches when no one could see.

She was showing him where she stood. He was no longer welcome to her.   


He could barely keep watching Rey without his blood boiling.   


_ She's not yours.  _ _  
_

_ You ran. _   


He watched her red skirts whirl in time with the dance, a splash of warmth against the more neutral colors on the dance floor. She was pressed against the mass of bodies, pressed tightly against Dwane in the throng, and he finally had to tear his eyes away.

“Yes,” Dwane purred. “And it seems my patience has been rewarded.”   


Relaxing his cramped fingers, Ben rose suddenly to his feet.   


"I wish for a moment of privacy," he said as he stormed by a frazzled Hux in the direction of a private chamber. He had to get away. He felt a crushing darkness return, embracing his heart. He felt himself detaching, becoming unstable. He couldn’t. Not here. Not again. Not after all he’d gone through.

Even with his eyes away from her, he felt her heat so acutely, as if the room were burning, and she was the inferno. 

Faster. He had to get away.

Rey opened her mouth to answer, when the low hum of the Force in the back of her mind quieted to a whisper, drawing her attention away from her partner.

The heat on the back of her neck chilled, the flame of a heated gaze torn away. Ben was leaving. 

She whirled around in the dance, her eyes seeking and searching for him in the crowd. There. Like a blot of ink and shadow on the edge of the floor, he stalked off the dais and through a hidden door in the corner of the hall. 

“My Lady?” Dwane asked. She had missed a beat. His eyes followed hers briefly, but there was nothing to see. The Supreme Leader had momentarily vanished.   
A cord tugged beneath her breastbone. She had to move before she lost him again. She couldn’t let him go without speaking with him as herself. She hadn’t realized that being so close to him would draw the poison out of her broken heart and bring it bubbling up to the surface. She needed to tell him everything. She had to explain. She had to at least try.   


Thankfully, the dance stopped moments later, her fellow partygoers applauding politely. 

As the dancers split apart and searched for new partners, Dwane kept her pressed tight against him, his fingers burning her nerves like smoldering metal.   


She slipped out of his arms with a minor struggle and pushed him back with a firm but nonchalant hand.    


“A moment please, Dwane,” she said breathlessly. “I need to...freshen up.”   


With a swish of skirts and a flurry of red, she swept off the floor toward the hidden door, her pulse pounding in her skull. She took her first deep breath in what felt like hours, practically gasping now that she had escaped her escort. Her skin still prickled uncomfortably, but it wasn’t the buzzing burn that she had danced through. Suddenly, she felt as if her mind were clearing, focus and purpose returning to her step. She could still do this.

She made to brush past a tall First Order officer with red hair.

“Are you lost, Madam?” he said, ice coating his polite tone.

She froze in her tracks as the man, the general that had given the opening remarks, came to intercept her with a clipped bow. Her mouth opened and closed silently, her eyes averted as panic shot through her. Caught. Finished. Dead.

“If you are in search of the facilities, they are in the other direction,” he continued with clipped efficiency and a gesture toward the other side of the room.

“Ah,” she said with a weak laugh, following his arm blindly with her eyes. “Thank you, sir. You must forgive me, I think I may have had too much to drink.”

He arched a disapproving eyebrow and plastered an insipid smile on his face. 

“It is a good thing that I found you then. You wouldn’t want to go wandering off where you don’t belong.” He gave a small bow to accompany his thinly veiled threat. “Enjoy the rest of the party, madam.” 

He walked off again, his shiny black boots clacking imperiously with every step, leaving Rey frozen in place, inexplicably rattled. 

 

Ben splashed water on his face again, again. It dripped down his neck and soaked his collar and hair, but he finally felt himself coming out of the anger that had taken root in him and threatened to tear him and the  _ Absolution _ apart in a blind fury until he got the truth. 

He took slow, deep breaths, returning to himself. He would not do that. The urge to lash out came from a place of deep anguish, anguish he wasn’t aware he could still feel.

Rey was here. She was alive. She was safe, as far as he could tell, to his great relief. And yet...

The selfish, bitter, black heart in his chest couldn’t help but feel that this was worse than he could have imagined. 

And he had imagined a reunion with her more times than he could count, more times than he had counted, as a matter of fact, in scratches in his quarters. Each one, a different fantasy. Finding Rey. Rescuing her. Holding her in his arms and never letting go...

He shut off the water abruptly.   


_ She is not mine. She wants nothing to do with me. _   


He absently at tugged at his jacket cuff, a poor substitute for the black ribbon.    


_ But why?  _ he wondered.  _ What changed? _   


He grabbed one of the plush hand towels from next to the sink and dabbed his face in the mirror.   


_ She healed me. Risked her life for mine. I thought... _   


He pressed the cloth against his lips and swallowed hard.

_ I was wrong. Everything has changed. I was foolish to think it wouldn’t. I lost her the moment she left the cave. _   


He couldn't forget those blissful moments when their minds had melded, her thoughts running wildly into his, the galaxy a tableau of their pasts and dreamed futures, and he knew (he thought he knew) that she wanted him in whatever future was to come. He would be Ben Solo again. And she would be his. His copilot, his wife, his everything, the two of them flying in an endless galaxy, in search of all the green, beautiful places.

He’d offered her his name, his healing body, himself, and she’d been eager to accept all that he could give her. But that was before.   


His tired hands clutched at the washcloth, nearly ripping it in his despair.   


_ Maybe this is her way of telling you to move on. _   


He only wished she'd done it in words.    


He thought they would wait for each other. Maybe she had at last grown tired of waiting.   


And maybe he should have stopped long ago.   


_ Time to assume your mantle, Supreme Leader, _ he taunted his reflection, the tired, stricken man with desperate eyes staring back at him.  _ You should be able to bear it for at least a little longer. The knife in your back won't be long in coming. _   


He slid on his gloves one at a time and strode out of the refresher into the heart of the private chamber. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves and assuming the mask of controlled calm expected of the Supreme Leader, and pressed his hand against the access panel to open the door.

And nearly ran down a ghost in a red dress as he did so.    


She quickly dodged his hulking form, stepping deeper into the small, dim chamber, closer to him, her heart racing and her breath sticking in her throat at his proximity.   


She looked up at him with shining hazel eyes. For a moment, she couldn’t hide the play of emotions that rocketed across her features; relief, terror, anguish, adoration, misery. 

She took a deep breath and her expression calmed, but her eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his.

He wanted to reach out, grab her, take her into his arms and keep her there where no one else could touch her or take her without prying her away from him...   


But the desire passed, leaving him to regard her with a dazed look.

"Rey?" he whispered through a sharp exhale, barely audible over the singing strings of the latest waltz.   


Though his jaw twitched and his mouth opened, he remained silent. Everything he wanted to do now that he had her alone and within arms’ reach fought for supremacy in his mind.

Her heart skipped a beat at her name on his lips. The sound had muddied and twisted in her memories after so many nights of imagining it. Hearing it again, the caress of it against her ear, was enough to set fire to her insides.   


_ Ben, _ she longed to whisper back. A chime in the Force cut through the fog in her mind, alerting her to someone’s approach.   


“...no,” was what escaped her instead, little more than a desperate hiss of sound between barely moving lips.    


Her eyes darted over her shoulder, catching a flash of motion outside the door. She bobbed a brief curtsy.    


“Excuse me, my Lord,” she said quietly. “I was lost for a moment. Pardon me.”   


She whirled to dart back to the relative safety of the crowd.

His mind raced with disbelief. He knew she had followed him here; there was no other reason for her to be waiting outside this door. Why, then, was she so eager to leave? Unless she didn’t want anything to do with him after all.   


She was telling him she wanted to be rid of him; she couldn’t have witnesses while rebuking the Supreme Leader, so she had sought him out privately.

He wanted to believe she could still love him, she had sought him to tell him she wanted him still. But he couldn’t know.

All the possibilities swirled around his mind until he was almost dizzy with uncertainty

"Wait," he commanded, lunging for her. His gloved fingers brushed her forearm with an unexpected roughness. His desire to keep her close, his utter desperation, seemed to leap from his skin and muscles without his control.

Every sense zeroed in on the press of his fingers against her arm. Warm, solid, real. And painless. She froze, her skirts swinging around her legs as she came back to stillness.

He withdrew his hand suddenly as if it hurt to touch her.    


"Why..." he began, but the words that could have followed died on his lips. So many questions. He didn’t know where to begin.

She turned slowly, trying to regain some of her equilibrium and already failing. Her chest rose and fell visibly, and her eyes found his face, his lips, his brow, the scar, anything but his eyes.    


She couldn’t look at his eyes again, or she’d never escape their pull.    


She drew in a sharp breath.

“I—” she murmured, pain tinting her whisper. 

Just as she began to speak, Dwane Soruta came barrelling towards them.

Mid-turn, the mask of Lady Viré slid back onto her face. Her eyes crystalized and her sweet mouth turned hard and bloody in an instant, and something about her very flesh seemed to turn to marble beneath her sheer red sleeves. She cast a final, pained smile back at Ben and floated out of the chamber to meet Soruta halfway.

"Oh, did you miss me?" she purred.

"I was wondering where you wandered off to, you little minx," Dwane said, an approximation of charming, masking the pure rage he felt toward the other man in their company.    


“I thought I saw you flit over here. The refreshers are the other way!” He laughed it off. It was a forced laugh.   


He offered her an arm, just as Hux appeared behind them.

“Ah, Master Soruta, a pleasure as always,” he said curtly. “How fortunate that you found your charming companion before she could further monopolize the Supreme Leader’s time.”

“Thank you, General Hux, she seems intent on getting lost,” Dwane said with a slimy smile, ignoring Hux’s pointed accusations. “I think she is having far too good a time, aren’t you, my dear?”   


He shot a cursory glance at the statue-still man in his midst. “Apologies, Supreme Leader. We won’t be underfoot again.”   


When she refused to take his arm, he tugged Rey by the wrist back towards their table at the perimeter of the dance floor.

She hissed at the hard grip and the pain sizzling in her nerves and tried to pull her sore hand away. 

“Dwane, please…” she mumbled.   


Hux tried to say something to him as they watched the couple depart, but Ben didn’t hear it. He was frozen. 

He had watched Rey, his Rey, disappear before his eyes again, a vanishing act that left the cold, beautiful Viré in her place before heading off into the crowds with Soruta. He wanted to call out to her, to beg her to stay, but that was not the behavior of the Supreme Leader.

So he had been rooted to the spot.

This might have been his last chance, his only chance to speak with Rey, perhaps for the night, perhaps forever, and they had barely managed a few stunned, muttered words to each other. As Hux turned away, Ben decided that he couldn’t let that be the end of it all.

His legs trudging in Rey's wake seemed to act of their own accord. His head was spinning. He almost felt as if he were a speck of dust floating behind her, so removed was he from his body. And she drifted ahead, her layers of skirts billowing as if she were hovering rather than walking behind the frantic Soruta.   


_ Do something. _   


"Wait! My Lady!" he called after her. Too loud. Too improper for the Supreme Leader. Some heads turned at the sharp bark of his voice. He slowed his pace to a casual stroll towards the couple to regain his composure.

Dwane dropped her hand and backed up a few steps, unwilling to be anywhere in the radius of the Supreme Leader if his date had given some offense. 

Rey watched Ben cautiously as he approached. Without meeting her gaze, he reached out and took one of her delicate hands into his. She suppressed a gasp. It didn’t hurt to touch him. It felt like a balm on her seared nerve endings. It felt like comfort. Like home. His hands were on her again and she could have cried for the fact that nothing hurt.

Through his gloves, he felt the weight of Rey’s hand resting in his. It felt right. His stomach fluttered in anticipation.   


"I have reconsidered my earlier statement, and I would very much like to dance," he said softly, his gaze avoiding hers.   


Bowing carefully, deeply, more reverently than the Supreme Leader was expected to show any guest, he placed a gentle, fluttering kiss on her knuckles: an invitation.

The touch of warm leather against her palm and soft lips on the back of her hand was enough to send shivers careening up and down her spine. Her mind reeled.    


_ I want to I have to talk to you I have to get you out of here I miss you I can’t I can’t I can’t. _   


She exhaled a controlled stream of air and flicked glittering gray eyes up to his face, now raised towards hers. Unmasked. Earnest. Beloved. Her soul screamed for him.    


“No, my Lord,” she said, too coolly and just loud enough for the necessary parties to hear. “You will forgive me, but my dance card is full.”   


She flowed into an achingly correct curtsy: a rejection. She returned her hand lightly to Soruta’s arm before sweeping away once more into the crowd.

The Supreme Leader stood stunned, watching the stranger in red floating away from him.   


He didn't care about the eyes of curious onlookers, excited by the spectacle that had unfolded. He heard their whispers and thoughts and judgments, and he couldn't be bothered.   


A splinter of Darkness entered through the jagged cracks in his mind, urging him to destroy the whole ship just to get her alone again.   


But he couldn't do that.    


Not after she showed him who he really was, after he had faced down that Darkness already. This destruction was not him, not anymore.   


He clenched his hand into a fist and watched her vanish for another moment, then slowly he walked back to the dais, taking his seat once more on the throne.   


_ It's not worth it, _ he told himself, schooling his face into a stubborn mask of disinterest and hate.  _ The woman you loved is gone. _

He knew he should accept her rejection with the jagged shards of pride he still had, but he couldn’t. Not after what had happened between them on Canto Bight, on Takodana. 

In the cabin, the forest, the cave. They had made love. They had made promises.

He wanted to keep them this time.

Regret, familiar and wretched, curdled her stomach as Dwane drew her away from Ben. The solicitous hand inching toward her back made her skin crawl, but she let it wander regardless, too sick to bat it away.    


Why couldn't she have said yes, and damn who saw her?   


Ben's lips caressing her skin was the closest to true peace that she had been since the forest. It had all come flooding back in that brief brush of a kiss and was torn away in the next instant by her own coldness. She had wanted it so badlyget away but still couldn't bring herself to say yes to him. She hated herself for it.    


She had likely ruined the mission, while she was at it. What possible reason could he have to agree to leave with her now? She had sentenced him to death with her rejection. Something in her chest cracked at the realization and she must have stumbled because Dwane stopped walking.   


"My Lady?"   


She tore away from him, making a beeline for the bar.   


"I'm fine," she mumbled.

“ Viré, wai—” He reached for her wrist again.

She turned and stopped him with a quiet flick of her finger, freezing him mid-motion. If the invisible threads of the universe hadn’t stopped him, the cold quartz of her eyes would have accomplished her objective just as effectively. She stepped minutely closer, her face icy in its expressionlessness, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“ _ You will not look at me, touch me, or speak to me for the remainder of our time together, _ ” she hissed quietly, all emotion drained from her low voice.

“I will not look at you, touch you, or speak to you for the remainder of our time together,” he repeated in a monotone, his hand dropping back to his side.   
Her hard gaze raked his face for any twitch of disobedience and, satisfied, she pulled back with a sneer.   


“Now be a good boy and go bother someone else.” 

 

Anyone who gazed upon the Supreme Leader during the next several songs saw a man, bare-faced and stoic, sitting rigidly like a statue on his throne, dark eyes surveying his guests cooly.   


If they caught glimpses of the woman in an eye-catching red gown, they saw any other party guest, ever attended by a number of men as she stood by the bar, sipping dark cocktails.   


If they looked closer, they would see the Supreme Leader, unmoving as marble, was always watching her, his stony facade eroding the longer he cast his gaze on her.   


If they knew his heart, they would realize it had shattered. He could not show it.   


There had been a pulse of emotion when his lips touched her hand. Fear. 

She was afraid of him still. He could not blame her.   


It was then that he realized what might have transpired. If she had agreed to dance with him, he would have marked her. She would have been a target for all his enemies. He had singled her out once already; perhaps...perhaps she was playing a game with him.   


Fine. Then he would play, too.   


He rose stiffly as a Chandrilan waltz ended, and guests applauded.   


"My Lord? Is everything alright?" an officer asked, brows quirked in fear.   


"Yes," Ben said dismissively, his voice frigid. "I merely wish to dance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey snatching a man outside the bathroom like "Hey you come here often?"
> 
> Don't knock it, that's how I got my man. 
> 
> Also, I, Vee, forgot late in the writing process that there was no dramatic toast in this story, so this one was provided by Em.
> 
> It was based on a drunken rant I gave New Years' Eve, enjoy.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mistress, I hate to intrude, but the music has touched me and I wish to dance."

Rey felt raw, her skin flayed and insides exposed for the gathering to gawk at. Every solicitous brush of fabric or skin against her arms, back, and shoulders stung like salt in a wound. Couldn't he see how she bled? It was pooling around her in a puddle of ruby-red gossamer.

Every so often she'd scan the dance floor, hoping her expression looked mildly disinterested as her cadre of suitors plied her with drink and conversation, passing her dance card among them like a shiny new toy. She smiled at the appropriate intervals, laughed brightly at all of their awful jokes, pouted when the talk turned to business woes and pretended not to listen when the conversation became political. 

“For a lady of such passion, I’m surprised that the Supreme Leader was subjected to so icy a reception,” one portly gentleman with an extravagant mustache chortled solicitously.

She smiled thinly, an expression that did not meet her eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” she said coolly.

“Really now, Viré darling, we’re all chums, are we not? Do give us the whole sordid tale. Don’t play coy.” The mustache quivered with barely repressed anticipation.

She laughed prettily but the sound was brittle in her own ears. A truth bubbled up without her permission.

“It’s just a little game he and I play…”  
  
As Rey bled, Viré kept her upright.  
  
A shadow descended in her peripheral vision as a new song struck up and she turned her head to the dance floor just as the Supreme Leader prowled into the midst of the crowd and bowed before a young golden-haired lady in a dress of green shimmersilk. The girl tittered prettily even as the color drained from her face and accepted his outstretched hand. Something roared in Rey's ears as she watched him sweep the young woman around the floor, the pinnacle of deadly grace even in the midst of a waltz. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the couple, a sour prickling igniting just behind her jawbone where jealousy lived.  
  
"It would seem that the monster has found himself a maiden to torment," another gentleman quipped loudly beside Rey. She shrugged him off.  
  
"Better her than me," she lied. Her entourage squawked their amusement like carrion birds eager to pick bones clean. 

She took a fortifying sip of the weak cocktail weighing her hand down. "Poor girl."

Ben had felt the eyes drawn to him as he stepped off the dais. He felt the sea of bodies part and the musicians halted the next waltz.

Perhaps it was not this way on Canto Bight because he had arrived with a date. He was accompanied by a beautiful shadow. She humanized him.

Now he was a strange man cloaked in night approaching Eri'doe, and he knew had he been anyone else she would have sneered in disgust at him. Instead, she just stood frozen in terror as he drew intentionally closer to her, her pretty features repressing her look of fear. It was not the first time he had seen that look cast in his direction, and he was certain it would not be the last.

He sent the Force out to her in soothing waves.

"Mistress, I hate to intrude, but the music has touched me and I wish to dance," he said with a slight bow of his head. "As your father has thoroughly praised your talents, I can think of no finer partner."

He could not smile, but he let his hard expression soften into something friendly, perhaps gentlemanly.

"If, of course, you would forgive the disruption to your dance card."

Eri's eyes flicked back to glance at her father, who nodded slightly, and she stepped forward to greet Kylo Ren, a practiced smile plastered on her lovely face.

"It is an honor I scarcely deserve, Supreme Leader," she said in a quiet, girlish voice, dipping into a liquid curtsy before solidifying and offering him her hand.

He felt her panic rolling off of her, and as they stepped closer together, he could feel her tremble beneath his touch. He let his grip on her be as light and comforting as he could manage.

She placed a trembling hand on his shoulder, staring with large eyes at his face, gaze grazing his scar with fright. 

"I must also apologize for my lack of practice," he said. “It is not expected that the Supreme Leader should dance, so I shall try not to damage your incredible reputation with my gracelessness."

As the music began, he felt into her mind for the rhythm of the steps, and she took her eyes off him with a smile, a real one this time, as he sent another comforting pulse of the Force to ease her mind.

He tried to ignore the scarlet flame at the bar as he whisked Eri'doe around in large, elegant circles. He pretended that the clouds of her scent that he passed through were not similar to the perfume that Rey was wearing. He tried to focus on the dance. He tried to forget.

Eri was graceful. She was beautiful. He felt her confidence grow with every footfall. He felt guilty for using her so.

Rey watched them move with cool aloofness on her face and misery in her mouth. Phantom hands from long ago alighted on her waist and curled around her right hand. She could nearly feel the heat of a large body pressed close to her chest, the faint pounding of a loving heart against her empty rib cage.

She sipped fretfully at her drink, desperate to distract herself from the ghostly sensations, but she could do nothing to stop them. Memory had been her solace and her destruction in her captivity, and now it threatened to rend her apart from the inside out.

Rey watched as the girl in green leaned up to speak in her partner’s ear, watched the tentative, almost smiling softness on his face in reply, and something inside her snapped.  
Perhaps it was the last dregs of her nerves, the final strand of control, the remaining bastion of hope against betrayal that had broken in her. Whatever it was, Rey’s fury had ignited in its wake.

That look in his eye was _hers_ . That easing around his mouth was _hers_ . The heart that beat in his chest was _hers_ .

He had sworn it, screamed it, tattooed it into her skin with lips and hands and hurts. She had bled for him, broken for him, given the last of her soul to keep him safe. And he would turn those eyes on anyone else?

The glass cracked in her hand and she set it down with deceptive calm. The song was coming to an end and Ben was bowing to the girl in green. He knew that she was watching him, she could feel it.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment. A challenge passed between them.

“Master Pel,” she said flatly to the tall, lanky youth lurking behind her left shoulder.

The boy snapped to attention and came to hover at her side.

“M-my Lady?” he stuttered.

She held out her hand to him without even a glance in his direction. Her eyes burned against the smoldering black gaze of the shadow on the dance floor.

“Ask me to dance.”

 

Ilandra Piyeto had been widowed recently, and she wore a black gown marked with clear, glittering crystals to highlight this fact. She was only a few years older than Ben himself and was almost to his height. She had come with her brother, he knew, and despite her quiet temperament, she was desperate for some sort of attention that was not pity for a change.

She would be a perfect second partner, Ben thought, and after returning Eri to her father, the Supreme Leader sought her out.

"My Lord, the honor is all mine," she purred, sliding a ring-encrusted hand into his. After every eye in the room had witnessed Eri'doe's successful waltz with the spectral Ren, the fright surrounding his sudden appearance on the dance floor had waned, replaced with a dark curiosity. Ben had spent the entire waltz praising Eri'doe endlessly and deriding his own abilities to make her smile, and she had assured him with no small amount of relief that he was, in fact, an excellent partner.

Ilandra was smoother, less energetic and buoyant than Eri, but no less elegant. She enjoyed whipping her skirts and leaning into the twirls. They were a pair of shadows, startling in their beauty. Ben actually found himself relaxing into his role, losing himself in the music and movement and Ilandra’s boundless elation.

But then there was that flash of red, and Ben could no longer enjoy it.

He had tried to ignore her presence moving towards him, but then he caught glimpses of her skirts in the corner of his eye, and a concoction of dread and giddiness set into his heart; his plan had worked, but that meant she was again in the arms of another man.

He tried to keep the dark expression off his face. Ilandra was too busy enjoying the attentions of the ballroom to care.

For once, Rey didn't need to lurk about in anyone's mind to find her dancing skills. Daven Pel was a perfectly atrocious dance partner. The young heir to an Arkanisian mining baron, Daven couldn't have been much older than 17, if his spotty face and ungainly limbs were anything to go on. But Rey tried to be patient and kind with him, easing him through the steps of the dance slowly as he stared down at his own feet for fear of tripping on her skirt, laughing nervously all the while. At a few points, she thought she spotted him eyeing up her modest cleavage, but she found that she couldn't fault him for his ogling. There was something endearing about the boy, perhaps it was the way that his ears turned red when he knew he'd been caught. It reminded her of Ben. The thought twisted in her gut as he twirled her under his arm.

Daven had the one redeeming quality that he genuinely made her laugh. He was fully aware of his awkwardness and his brand of self-deprecating humor and wry wit (once he had eschewed his nerves) was refreshing amongst the stuffy businessmen and pundits that surrounded them.

"You'll have to forgive my plodding, Lady Viré," he said with a shy grin. "My tutors say that I've got all the grace of a Gungan in glue."

Rey laughed easily, her smile fond. "No judgment here, Master Pel. You're a fast learner."

He spun her again, and as she turned, her eyes snagged on Ben's pale face. He looked stricken to see her dancing with another.

Good.

The music ended, and Ilandra swept into a curtsy as Ben inclined a slight bow to her. As quickly as she thanked him for a lovely waltz, she strutted off to revel in the attention of the other men in the room, suddenly in awe of her. If Ben was capable of charity, he had done a good deed for this woman.

He tried to avoid looking at Rey and the child she had danced with. He was still a boy, a boy in a man's suit.

He was almost elated at the idea that she would try to win his attention with a boy, as gangly and awkward as he himself had once been. She wanted his attention; and as much as he longed to return it, he couldn't give it back. Not yet.

He searched the floor for another partner.

Daven bowed deeply to Rey, and all too easily, she pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, cupping his young face in her hands, ignoring the buzzing in her nerves.

“You’re going to do great things one day, Master Pel,” she said softly, a sad smile on her lips. “Will you do me a favor?”

The youth’s eyes were glazed but he nodded dumbly.

“Anything, my Lady,” he mumbled.

She let him go and nearly smiled when he leaned forward, unconsciously seeking after the kind touch. She knew that she wouldn’t have to put any of the Force behind her words. The boy was sweet. He would do as she asked.

“Go home. Immediately. Kiss your mother and tell your father that you were unwell. He will be angry at first, but he’ll understand.” She looked around at the glittering cruelty and barely concealed disdain around them with tired eyes. “This is no place for good men, Master Pel. Go home.”

Daven’s face was confused, but he could sense the seriousness in her tone. He nodded again, his eyes clearing, and with another solemn bow, he took his leave of the First Order.

It seemed that the very next moment, another of Dwane Soruta’s associates was sidling up to her and asking for the next dance on her card. This one was older and far less endearing than young Master Pel.

Ben's eyes had wandered to Rey's crowd of suitors, but he snapped back to attention when he felt a gentle yet persistent hand tapping on his shoulder.

"Lord Ren, if I may be so bold, are you free to dance?" a droll, feminine voice asked.

He turned to face a tall woman with copper hair in a dress of blues as rich as the deep ocean. Her name escaped him momentarily as he took in her rosy cheeks and full lips.

Her name drifted to him in the Force. A’vet Clae. He nodded slightly, and that was all the invitation she needed. She curtsied to him, and he dipped his head into a slight bow.

One of A’vet’s slender hands was in his in a moment, and the other pressed against the outside of his shoulder, burning through the thick fabric of his suit jacket to the small round scar beneath.

She looked at him with an eagerness he had yet to experience that evening if he had ever experienced this sort of attention from the opposite sex. A longing. A challenge. The boy Ben Solo had been, shy and self-conscious and fretful, prodded against the shell of power and authority that was Kylo Ren. The woman before him, buxom and richly beautiful, was gleefully devouring the facade of him, the power and authority, and, yes, he could tell that she was even enamored of his appearance. But with his mask off, he wasn't sure what elements of Kylo Ren she saw, and what was really him. Or if she cared about the difference and craved to go any deeper than this surface.

The music was fast and light and she whirled and laughed in delight. He couldn't even press into her mind to learn more about her; she was too far lost in the music. His hand lighted on her waist, the low cut back of her dress revealing long planes of soft skin, coated in a sheen of sweat. She pressed into his touch, and her hands always seemed to come back to him. Not his shoulder, now, but his bicep, his neck, his chest. Wherever felt right.

She swirled in closer, and he leaned into her ear.

"You'll have to forgive me, Mistress Clae," he whispered. "But in the rush of the evening, I have forgotten where you're from."

She pivoted to face him, a sultry smile on her face. "Oh, I've always lived on Chandrila. My father is a banker."

It was her turn to let her hot breath brush against his cheek. "But my mother is from Mandalore."

 

"Madam," intoned the rough voice of Gedras Hahu. The intricately tattooed Zabrak towered over Rey, grinning down on her with barely concealed hunger. "I believe that I have laid claim to the next dance."

She checked the little disc that hung from her wrist, praying that her card was wrong. No, there were a few names remaining on it and this one unequivocally belonged to this...gentleman.

She gave a tight smile and a brief curtsy before taking his proffered hand. His claws prickled against the soft skin on the back of her hand and through the sheer fabric covering her back as he pulled her close without warning. Danger radiated off of him in waves and her blood buzzed unpleasantly beneath her skin. 

He pulled her up against the hard plane of his chest, forcing her arms up around his shoulders to steady herself. He grabbed her tightly around the waist and snared her right hand in his left, jerking her arm up into proper form. She winced. They moved.

He swung her around the floor as if she weighed nothing, barely seeming to care that she was struggling to keep up with his pace.

"You are...an associate of Mister Soruta's?" she asked, her tone light to belie her unease.

"No," Hahu replied shortly.

He spun her around, bringing her back roughly against his chest as a quiet whoosh of air left her.

"...the Supreme Leader, then?"

"My business is my own, Lady," he growled. "You would be wise to leave it at that."

Hahu's grip on her waist was firm as he lifted her in time with the rest of the dancers. She could see Ben's partner also rising into the air, the woman's face alighting with a sultry smile as she slid back down the Supreme Leader's body.

"Mandalore?" Ben repeated, feeling her heat seeping into his suit.

"Yes, Mandalore!" A’vet exclaimed, scanning his face and pouting with mock offense. "Is there something wrong with Mandalore?"

He completely missed the sweep of red at his side.

"Nothing at all," he said. "I just know too much and too little about it at the same time."

She twirled in his grip and threw a look at him over her shoulder.

"Curious, are you? If you ever need a teacher of Mandalorian language customs, you should know you can always count on me," A’vet purred. "I can make time to teach you if you’re so interested, _cyar'ika_."

 

Rey's skirts flared out in a swath of crimson as Hahu whirled them both around the floor. She obviously wasn't going to get much more out of him in terms of conversation, so she let her eyes wander as they spun around. Ben's back had seemed to stiffen and she caught a glimpse of the woman's pale hand trailing coquettishly over his shoulder. Rey's stomach clenched again before a set of clawed fingers grasped her chin and turned her gaze back to the heavily tattooed face of her own dance partner.

"It is rude to ignore your partner, my Lady," Gedras snarled under his breath, his eyes glowing yellow and his horns glinting dimly in the light. "I do not take kindly to slights from impudent courtesans with delusions of grandeur. No matter how firmly she has Kylo Ren wrapped around her finger."

Rey's blood ran cold but her expression hardened.

“I saw the way he looked at you, Lady. He took his mask off for the likes of _you._ ” He tightened his hold on her chin when she opened her mouth to rebuke. “Now, now, I think we can both agree not to lie to each other about that, can’t we? He certainly didn’t unmask for Dwane Soruta. That pig is scarcely worth the slop he feeds on.”

They made another circuit around their corner of the dance floor.

“What is your angle, I wonder, Lady…” he rumbled thoughtfully. “And what could you be persuaded to give so that no one finds out about your...connection.”

Rey’s temper flared, but she forced herself to let it freeze over.

"With all due respect, Mister Hahu," she purred, her tone low and easy, "I’m not so easy to frighten, impudent though I may be. In my line of work, I’ve found that there’s great benefit to...keeping my options open.”

She leaned into the next spin with a dazzling, if icy, smile.

“I have become something of a favorite of the Supreme Leader. And he is quite _particular_ about the company I keep.”

Her grin turned feral and she reached up to whisper in his ear.

“It would be unwise to provoke me, Mister Hahu. I have seen whole worlds burn at Kylo Ren’s displeasure.”

He sneered, baring sharp teeth. “You honestly expect me to believe this bantha-shit? You’re nobody, _Lady_ Viré.”

Her expression was cool and smug as she twisted out of his grip. 

“Perhaps,” she said evenly. “But do you wish to test that theory?”

She broke away from him just as the song came to its end, relief flooding her nerve endings to be away from his rough touch.

“Excuse me, sir."

His expression was equal parts bemused and murderous, but he executed a clipped bow, just shy of discourteous. She returned a curtsy with a regal tilt to her head and a finality in her spine that put an end to the conversation.

 

_Cyar'ika._

Sweetheart. Darling. Beloved. The familiar endearment caused Ben’s whole body to go rigid. It was his name for Rey, the one only she would ever know. It was a name he had chosen in fear of his own sentimentality; he hadn’t known to express the selfish, guarded heart in his chest, so he borrowed words from another language. 

 _Cyar'ika._ ..It had felt so natural rolling between their minds. It sounded alien on the tongue of this stranger, who knew the language better than Ben could ever hope to.  
He had lost himself in the strange woman's embrace, forgotten his woes for a moment of movement and warmth and smiles. But she, like his other dance partners, had just been a pawn, however endearing or alluring.

A’vet had been a worthy distraction, but there was a point to this game, a game he couldn’t bear to lose now. He felt a small pang of guilt at his indiscretion as he untangled himself from A’vet as the music died.

"Perhaps another time.” He bowed his head quickly. “Thank you, Mistress Clae. You have been a lovely partner."

He straightened, and though he saw the crestfallen expression cross her face, he had meant every word. He sent her warmth and gratitude before exiting her orbit and turning back to the turbulence around him.

He felt a pulse of hate in the Force, and his gaze was drawn once more to the shock of scarlet in the crowd, facing off against a tall Zabrak bearing a withering glare. Her anger buzzed like static as her partner turned away and disappeared into the crowd at the bar.

Rey's nerve endings were jumping, trying to return to equilibrium, and the Force hummed faintly in the back of her skull. She let loose an exhausted breath, rolling the tension out of her neck. This whole evening was becoming a damnable mess of her own making and she could barely focus long enough to think of a way out.

She felt the flame of a candle caress the slope of her shoulder and peered across the floor to where Ben stood inhumanly still, watching her.

His heart plunged into his stomach.

The crowded dance floor seemed to dissolve around them. His eyes locked on her, and she caught his gaze, holding it. He distantly remembered the way she had approached the cave on Takodana, the way their eyes had met through the downpour.

No more games. They'd had their fun, scored their petty victories. He strode over to her, brushing past a number of other dancers when the musicians called out a command. Those that heard it cheered and began to line up in a row. Bodies pressed between Ben and Rey, and their connection was severed.

_No. No!_

He wanted to run to her, to push through the masses to get to her, but he was trapped by the swarming dancers.

_Oh, Ben..._

She could see the desperation in his face, but he quickly disappeared in the throng of partygoers pushing to line up before the music began again. She didn't try to fight the tide of bodies and let the crowd move her until she was shoved into a line on one side of the floor.

This dance, a line jig, apparently, was one more commonly known in the Outer Rim territories. Many who had been wrangled into one of the two lines seemed confused, but those familiar were eager to teach their friends and neighbors. Ben was not able to escape the dance floor and found himself shuffled shoulder to shoulder against two women, one younger and giggling and perhaps too drunk to realize who he was, and another older and too sober to be kind to the man next to her, regardless of his position.

The women began with a series of claps, then took several steps forward and back. Then it was the turn for the men. Ben hurried to keep time and follow along, but his eyes scanned for Rey all the while.

He had to back away.

The group began to shift, moving to the side. Now was his chance.

The women on either side of him took his hands and began to walk him around in a circle.

Trapped again.

Mercifully, the gentlemen on either side of Rey were more than happy to lead her through the first few rotations of steps. Spinning and circling, her hands gripped delicately by the two men beside her, she quickly fell into the rhythm of the dance, doing her best to not look quite so desperate to keep Ben in her sights. The two lines shifted to their respective right and met in the middle, ladies pressing their palms to those of the gentlemen across from them, circling each other a few times and then stepping back into line. 

The dance floor was a whirl of suits and skirts, clapping and twirling, hands being taken and released, partners being swapped. Ben was keeping up, but his heart was not in it. The faces melted together, laughs and smiles brought on by the merriment and drink. He was tossed deeper into the crowd, no longer the Supreme Leader but just another body in the dance.

Rey let the music and the Force in two harmonizing melodies flow through her body, her vision unfocused and dreamy as she spun slowly and gracefully. She wove around bodies as if skating on a bubble's curve, barely paying attention to her brief partnerships before swirling off to the next one with a hiss of skirts against polished durasteel.  
A shadow fell across her eyes, and when she looked up, she was standing directly across from Ben.

His eyes widened as they met hers, and if the music were not such a compelling master, he would have charged right to her.

Instead, he held up a gloved hand, an open palm offered to her. He drew his breath sharply. The motion of the dance had only now brought them together. This might be his only chance.

Her eyes flicked from his face to his hand and back up again. She exhaled slowly and pressed her hand to his.

Almost imperceptibly, he flinched at the contact. As he took two careful steps forward then two more back, he never removed his gaze from their hands.

He let his mind collide with hers with the same force of their palms connecting. 

He took a deep breath, drawing strength from their tenuous connection before he desperately called to her.

_Rey, please. Let me in._

She had to remind herself to keep moving. The sound of his voice in her head, soft and deep and warm, was a bittersweet thing. Moisture threatened at the corners of her eyes and she blinked it away stubbornly. Her hand fell away as she twirled around him, her skirts just barely brushing against his legs.

 _This is dangerous,_ she whispered into his mind. _For both of us._

The sound of her in his mind again almost unraveled him. The Supreme Leader was on the brink of falling to his knees and clutching this woman’s skirts and begging her to end this charade. His thoughts were interrupted as the women stepped forward to clap again. When his turn came, he stood frozen, staring at her as the dance dissolved around them.

 _This is dangerous._ It _was_ dangerous.

And yet...

_That never stopped you before._

His body language told her it wasn't stopping him now.

She swept to a stop in front of him, her gaze fixed firmly on his collarbone, still too afraid to look him in the eye. They turned in a tight circle around each other like a pair of binary stars in orbit, so close yet unable to touch. 

_A lot of things have changed since Takodana..._

_Then tell me_. His voice in her mind was no longer pleading, but commanding. _Show me._

The guests applauded wildly for the song, laughing and cheering at their friends and partners for the success of it all, and the Supreme Leader was blessedly lost within their ranks for a time, free to carve out a world for him and Rey as the guests scrambled to reorient themselves for another partner dance. His eyes locked on her, and the galaxy fell away.

Swallowing his apprehension, he stepped forward. 

"Forget your card. The next dance is with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We keep hurting you like this but you're the masochists who love it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do your eyes deceive you? You know who I am."  
> "I don't think I do. It's as you say; a lot has changed."

"You cannot love her; You tell her so; 

must she not then be answer'd?" 

          Twelfth Night, or What You Will, II.IV

* * *

 

He bowed stiffly, bending far deeper than the recipient’s station warranted.

“With your permission, my Lady.”

She smiled tightly. 

"Are you asking or commanding, sir?" she said lowly.

He hoped she could not see the barb landing, as he straightened, centering his mind once more. He couldn't let his fear control him again. He could not let the monster slip out. She had rejected him once after he had freed them from Snoke, after they had fought together, after he had seen them together in the Force, and the agony of the kindness she had shown him followed by her rejection had devastated him. She had already pushed him away once this night. He was just barely keeping himself together, every cold glance breaking him into fragments, but he would never force her to come to him, even knowing this could be his last chance.

"From our first dance to now, you have always had a choice," he replied. "I will never deny you that."

Rey was quiet for a long moment, unnerved by the proximity to him and head still reeling from the feeling of his mind entwined with hers. She had hesitated for just a moment too long and she could see the tightness spreading through Ben’s shoulders. He was just barely restraining himself, from what she didn’t know. She could sense that the crowd was starting to look their way. She needed to make a decision: risk the eyes of their enemies, or risk losing her chance to save Ben.

She curtsied deeply and perfectly.

"I accept your invitation, my Lord Ren."

He inhaled deeply and stepped forward to meet his partner. He almost trembled at the proximity. She had that power over him, even now.

He couldn’t forget how it felt the first time he had held her, the first time they had danced. 

Rey, tough, survivalist Rey, had looked so breathtakingly beautiful when he first saw her again, cloaked in smoke and starlight. He had been glad for his helmet so she couldn’t see his jaw drop and his cheeks flush.  
He was granted the privilege of holding her close. Their intimacy only grew from there, stealing caresses at the ball that grew bolder and bolder. Her hand on his leg. His hand on her bare back. She had kissed him so hungrily in the alley. She had fallen asleep in his arms. She had fallen asleep beside him on Takodana. She had made love to him in the rain. 

He placed his hand at her waist stiffly, formally, even though he knew the curve and dip of her body beneath the layers of scarlet fabric and his supple leather glove. He should have been relieved at the feelings of her familiar form under his hands, but the sensation was drowned out by the gaudiness of the environment, the static of the mass of conversation, by the way she had looked at him like he was a stranger. Naturally, then, she felt like a stranger beneath his hand.

He had wanted her for so long and now she was here and he couldn’t help but feel the torrent of guilt, aching and familiar, as he pulled her in close to him.

He wanted this. He wanted this too much. 

He shouldn’t have her. She had pushed him back. He wasn’t enough.

But _Force,_ if this was the only way he could hold her again, if he had to lose her this one last time and be done with it, he would take it, he would have her in whatever way he could, and he would savor it.   
He offered his other hand to her. He tried not to look at her; he couldn't bear to see the coldness where love had been.

She slid her hand into his, her eyes fluttering shut at the familiar caress of warm leather. She didn't feel like crawling out of her skin from his touch and the revelation nearly brought her to tears. If anything, her body had taken on that forgotten tightness and heat that had been so absent from her life since the cave. She let out a quiet, controlled breath, her rib cage expanding slightly, pressing into his.

Heady, smoky strings reverberated through the room. She gave a surreptitious glance around the floor to try to follow the dance steps, but it seemed that this one was far more individualized. Couples pressed together, joined at hip and chest and hand, twisting and tangling in an intimate embrace set to music. Her face heated at the display as she turned back to her partner, still unmoving.

She tried to ignore the pained expression that he had stubbornly fixed away from her. 

Why wouldn’t he just _look_ at her? Why did he refuse to see her?

 _It’s been a long time since we’ve danced together,_ she thought quietly in his direction.

The comforting treble of her thoughts in his mind again temporarily transported him to a planet far away, where he only knew her scent and touch and the comfort of their minds intertwined like the dancers around them.

He suppressed a gasp, fighting to keep his composure. The last time he had felt her mind in his, he had felt her fear, and before that, her panic, but once, he had only known the blissful oblivion of the galaxy condensed to just the two of them, and he could almost feel that phantom sensation now as her mind slid gently against his. 

But that was a world away and a lifetime ago. He needed to be here now.

He watched the couples moving closely, sensuously around them. Guests around the room peered at the dancefloor, curious and scandalized.

He had not been prepared for this sort of dance.

Ben scanned the room a moment longer before his eyes locked down on their joined hands. He couldn’t quite look her in the eye, not yet.

_This is not a dance we are familiar with._

She took her skirts in her free hand, holding them back. Her elbow just barely brushed his hand on her waist and she suppressed a shiver. Around them, dancers moved with sensual slowness and unrestrained hunger. The steps were not ones she knew, but this was definitely a dance she remembered. 

 _Perhaps it is, just from a different point of view,_ she thought.

His hand shifted up her back, palm flat and sure against her shoulder blade, pulling her in just the slightest bit tighter to him until he had to restrain a shudder of his own. He was grateful her full skirts drove a wedge between them. She shifted a bit, angling her right leg outward a bit. The weight of the secret cargo strapped to her thigh tugged with every step. 

He raised their joined hands higher.

It was a battle in slow motion, a love affair in snapshots. He moved and she met him step for step; he never let her stray too far from his orbit. He held her hand in his with a light grip, but his eyes were a far stronger chain to bind her to him; they blazed with a dozen different emotions, thousands of thoughts, and a million possible futures, some more possible than others.

The music commanded them, the harsh strings a tense cord pulling them like puppets. He could barely think, but thankfully their bodies seemed to react wordlessly, each minute gesture a list of demands, and turn by turn, each would obey the other.

 _Chase me_ , the dance purred. _Capture and conquer._

Ben had almost forgotten to breathe. 

This was Rey as he remembered her, their senses entwined like their hands, but something was different. Something was wrong.

 _We need to talk_ , she pressed after a few more moments of unbearable silence. She couldn’t let go of that tether now that she was near him again. It felt too much like being whole again, an intoxicating sensation. 

She let go of him after a few beats, twirling away in a pool of spreading red. Out of his grip, she could breathe again, but her mind was in chaos, foggy and crystal clear all at once. She stopped with her back to him and swayed in place, her chest rising with an anticipatory breath. 

This was a dance guided by hunger and rhythm, and Ben, unable to follow a set pattern from the other dancers, followed his instincts, his desires, the music possessing and commanding his limbs to move. He progressed from a stiff nervousness, his steps and arm movements fretful, to a cool control as his arm braced her around her middle, his other hand holding hers.

_I thought you said it was too dangerous._

Her heartbeat pounded in time with the music, thumping pointedly behind her breastbone. She could feel the tension in him, taut as a bowstring threatening to snap. As she pressed her back to him, his hands fluttered across her waist and down her arm, mannerly yet demanding. The heat of his hands soaked through leather and gossamer, branding her with his touch, soothing her nerves and exciting them in the same instant. 

 _It is,_ she gasped, a sweet breath in his mind. _But I_ need _to speak with you._

Her eyes darted anxiously around the floor.

_Is there somewhere quiet we can go?_

_Now?_ His thoughts in her mind were sharp. Urgent. _Who is asking to speak with me? Rey or Lady Viré?_

He pulled her back into him, perhaps too tightly.

Her flesh tingled in the wake of his hands as they dragged over her waist. She shivered under his scrutiny. Could he feel the gaps between her ribs? The weakness of once lean muscles? 

What were the secrets that her body was telling him?

_Do your eyes deceive you? You know who I am._

_I don't think I do. It's as you say; a lot has changed._

He spun her sharply until she faced him, chest to chest. Finally, he met her eyes again, and he saw her there. The breath between them was hot and aching.

_Why have you been a stranger?_

A little sound escaped her, barely more than a gasp.

_Would you rather have had me run into your arms and kiss you senseless in front of the entire First Order?_

Her hand slid across his shoulder and up his neck, the soft ends of his hair whispering against the backs of her fingers. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She couldn’t keep him out any longer.

He felt her hands delicately exploring him, her soft breath against his lips, and he hungered for her.

_Is that what you wanted?_

Her pupils were large and dark as deepest space, beckoning him into her soul.

 _It's a scavenger's curse to want what I cannot have,_ she murmured, her eyes flicking down to his mouth for the briefest moment. _They would've killed us both if I had._

He felt the icy pain in his chest begin to thaw. He had wondered before if she had wished merely to toy with him tonight, if this whole affair had been a game for her, and if, even when he thought he had gained the advantage over her, he had played right into her hands.

Now he felt her raw ache, an echo to his, and he found himself beginning to grasp at the reality; she had wanted to see him. She had returned to him. But her purpose was still unclear.

He took several slow steps to the side, hands guiding her along with him.

_But you wouldn’t let me in, wouldn't hear me, wouldn't dance with me...how am I to know the truth?_

He caught her gaze over a shrill crescendo. 

 _I want to believe you._ His thoughts purred, a plea and a command. _I want to know you still._

Her forehead creased minutely, distressed. _I wanted to but..._  

She swayed with him, unable to finish her thought, unable to keep the sadness from tinting her voice. She pulled away and circled him as he stood there, his eyes tracking her as she moved. She skated her fingertips lightly across his back, drawing an invisible bridge between his shoulder blades. Had she ever truly thought that she would be able to touch him again?

He shivered involuntarily under her delicate touch. Too long. He hadn't known tenderness for far too long.

_What was preventing you?_

Over the screaming music, the intimate dance, his eyes wandered the room until his gaze locked onto the familiar form of Dwane Soruta.

_Stupid question. You're here to taunt me._

The coldness returned to lash around his heart. He felt constricted again.

 _I don't want to play this game with you, Rey._ His voice in her mind was hard. _We're done with games._

Her brow furrowed and her eyes sharpened as his thoughts flashed toward her escort, her dance partners.

Her hand tightened in his grip. _Don’t forget, you played just as dirty as I did...the one in the green dress was very pretty._

 _You arrived on that bastard’s arm,_ he snarled in reply, trying to tame the angry flush rising beneath his collar.

_Soruta has nothing to do with this; he was a means to an end._

_Then why toy with me? What do you want?_ he begged, exhausted finality in his tone _. I don't know if you want me dead, if you want me punished for leaving Takodana, but I don't want to play this game._

Across their minds, she felt something he could no longer hide from her: the pained longing. Wanting. Even as he held her, she was slipping through his fingers, and it took every ounce of his strength not to hold her tight enough that he never had to let her go again. His Darkness was once rage. Now it was a haze of selfishness, desire, loss.

She resumed her spot in front of him, her fingers trailed back up his arm to his shoulder, straight and solid, and she slipped her other hand into his. She looked up at him with shimmering eyes, their color shifting with the light and her riotous emotions.

_Your mother sent me._

The dread and pain that had pulsed through him since Rey's first denial returned, and he found himself turning to face her back and slender neck once more. He fought the desire to taste the creamy curve of her shoulder, to seek the comfort nestled at the base of her throat.

 _You're here...because of my mother?_ He felt the bitterness creeping up with no small amount of wrath. 

_Of course; she sent a spy she knew I couldn't resist._

His hand on her waist was no longer curious or tender, but frantic.

_Well? Are you going to kill me here or somewhere more private?_

She winced a bit at the rough handling. She had forgotten just how big his hands were; they nearly spanned her entire waist now as they swayed to the rhythm.

 _Your life is not mine to take,_ she whispered. 

Her fingers curled around his wrist, pressing his arm to her middle.

 _Your mother got me here, but it was my choice to come._ I _came for_ you.

He looked at her clutching him; Rey in her finery, he dressed as the Supreme Leader once more.

This was wrong. All wrong. Not what he wanted at all.

Her free hand reached up and caressed his cheek, her gentle fingers finding the scar she had given him.

 _Why are_ you _still here? This wasn't what you wanted…_

Her words struck him like blaster bolts, and he recoiled from her touch. He grabbed her wrist, suddenly harder, icier.

Rey had been sent for him. Silent for months. Wouldn't talk to him until now. Suddenly, she was acting familiar. This was a mission. An act. He suddenly resented the comfort he felt as he whispered into her mind; this was wrong. It felt wrong.

_After so much has changed, why would you assume that is still true?_

She winced, her battered wrist complaining. 

 _I’m trying to get you out,_ she hissed. _What happened to all the green places, Ben?_

He released her, his hands skating down to her waist.

His heart pulsed again, now battered, now fearful. He had never forgotten his promise to her, to show her the galaxy, just like she wanted, but now it was tainted. The dreams they had shared felt empty. Now he wasn’t sure if it was Rey, the woman he had loved, or Rey, the Jedi of the Resistance, who was seeking him, entreating him. And perhaps, just as he was both Kylo Ren and Ben Solo, she was also both: a lover and a threat. The reminder of their daydreams bruised him. His promise felt like bait to lure him to his doom; it was the most sacred vow that had passed between them, and it was being used against him. 

Did she see him as a simple pawn? Or was the Resistance now using her as one?

 _Get me out?_ His voice in her mind drowned out the music. It was desperate yet exasperated. He was barely holding on to the moment, to the woman he had loved and might love still, but the haze in his mind was tearing him apart, leaving pieces behind on the dancefloor, the dancing now too scandalous to be observed by the other guests, who had filtered off to corners of the hall or to the bar for refills.

She nodded minutely, the first outward sign of their silent conversation. He turned her in his hands, moving her like a doll. She felt his thumb brush lightly over her bottom ribs and she resisted the urge to whimper at the gentle touch.

Her hands came up to alight on his chest. She could feel him breathing, feel his racing heartbeat, feel the indomitable _life_ in him. She knew she had made the right choice on Takodana all those months ago. If she hadn’t, what would have filled this strong chest instead of his beautiful, stubborn heartbeat? What wouldn’t she give to keep that sweet song from leaving his bones?

 _Yes. Please, Ben,_ she murmured. _Come home._

 _Home,_ his thoughts echoed, and though it sounded like bitterness was sure to follow, a series of images followed as Ben swayed with her: a beach, the cabin, the cave.

_What home do I have with the Resistance? I don’t know if I can trust them._

_What about me? Am I not to be trusted?_

Her words sank into his mind, plaintive and heavy. His thoughts in her skull seemed to blend with her own and echo, morphing from his voice into hers. 

What home did _she_ have with the Resistance? It had been made painfully clear to her that she was no longer one of them. They had put her away, left her to rot, trotted her out when they wanted information she had already given. Why had she called it home? What had made her think of it as such?

Was it Finn’s gentle reassurance that he was still in her corner? Emfor and Aytar’s bizarre brand of kindness? Leia’s motherly hands coaxing her out of the silence of the dampener cuffs? 

Had Rey thought, foolishly, that if she was there, Ben might consider it a home?

At that moment, the realization hit her with such brute force that she felt it like a blow in the pit of her stomach. She had nothing to offer him that might draw him out of the First Order’s hold. Nothing besides herself. And it was becoming painfully clear that she was not enough of an incentive. 

 _It's as you say._ He swept her under his raised arm. _Things have changed._

He spun her back, his thoughts a whirlwind around her, memories and nightmares, green places and dark halls, her screams. His. A fear: his death at the hands of the Resistance, with her forced to look on as he suffered. 

Did she remember as he did? Did her heart break as his had, or was it all a game?

The bitterness rose again like bile in his chest.

_Can I trust you to keep your promise that my life is not yours to take? Or were you planning to deliver me to the Resistance to have them take care of me for you?_

She almost stumbled as her heart clenched painfully. She took a deep breath, trying to swallow the sting of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

_Obviously you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m telling the truth. I don’t know how else to convince you._

She knew a way, but even she wasn’t so cruel as to open his mind to what she had endured since Takodana.

_I want to trust you._

Wide, gentle fingers brushed her around her waist, righting her.

His thoughts could betray him now, but the guard he used to protect the fragments of his heart was sliding back into place.

_You can't imagine how badly I want to._

_Ben..._  

His name was nearly a sob, a quiet whimper in his mind.

His eyes snapped back to her.

 _Tell me,_ he thought frantically into her mind. _Tell me why you came. Tell me what you want. Tell me that you didn't come just to escort me to my death. Tell me anything. Anything. Please._

The song came to a howling, riotous end with her wrapped in his embrace, their joined hands held high, their breaths mingling in desperate puffs between them. All of the tension in her body seemed to slacken with fatigue, and not from the dancing. 

 _I..._ She swallowed, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment to center herself. _I’ll tell you everything. All of it. But not here._

He pulled away.

He wanted her so much he was caving in on himself with desire.

But not this. Not what she offered.

She offered him only more servitude, more imprisonment.

No promise of her. He would not accept it.

He stepped back.

"Forgive me, my Lady, I think our time together has run its course."

He stepped back again.

 _Please,_ he thought quietly.

His other hand burrowed into his pocket before taking her hand in his. He bowed low, and kissed her knuckles gingerly. 

_Please let me be wrong again._

"Thank you, my Lady," he murmured into her hand as his eyes met hers one last time.

Rey's heart sank as the reality of his words hit her. 

Ben didn’t trust her. The bitterness souring his thoughts told her enough of how he felt about her now. She had pushed too far. She had relied too heavily on a love that no longer existed. 

She had made her gamble and she had lost. 

She swallowed thickly and dipped into a low curtsy, her palm still pressed into his. 

"The pleasure was all mine, my Lord," she whispered back to him once she had risen again. She meant every word.

_Ben..._

The plans he had made little more than a day prior milled about like the dancers seeking their next partners. He caught flashes of the life he had wanted with Rey, fleeting glimpses that melted and pooled at the feet of this beautiful, torturous woman. 

As she said, she had changed; she was not his Rey any longer.

And he was not her Ben, no matter how much he wanted to be. He was too much of the Supreme Leader to be Ben. Too much Ben to be the Supreme Leader. As he was, he was not worthy of her. 

_I only wish I could be._

With a curt nod, he turned on his heels and slipped back into the crowd of bodies around the edge of the dance floor. 

He had to get away.

This had to work.

She was left on the dance floor, watching the man she had loved enough to let go walk away. His steps were straight and sure, without a trace of the limp that had plagued him when she had last seen him. He was whole, healed, and now she was the one who was broken. 

The hand he had kissed tingled with the remnants of the sensation and it brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers curled into her fist and she was startled to find a slip of softened paper filling her palm.

It was small, worn and discolored around the edges. It had been folded and unfolded a thousand times and been slipped in and out of countless pockets. When she opened it, her heart stuttered.

_Ben, my love,_

_I hope the morning finds you well. I'll be thinking of you until I get back. Don't re-break anything while I'm gone._

_I love you._

_Your Rey_

Her mouth fell open and a lone tear dripped down her cheek, cool as rainwater. 

He had kept it. All this time, he had kept it. Her words, scrawled in smudged charcoal and laced with more love than she could comprehend now. She could see where he'd traced over the letters and left smoky fingerprints on the margins. He had loved her enough to keep a piece of her. 

And now he had given that piece back. 

Her eyes shot up to where the end of his cape was just disappearing through a door and without a second thought, she slipped the note into a hidden pocket and went after him.

 

Ben strode out into the empty corridor a few paces and then froze, waiting. He did not know how long for, but every pounding beat of his heart in his head felt like eternities.

He had waited this long. Now he just had to know.

He stopped far enough away that she could still find him, the roiling in his gut threatening to undo him.  

He tried to think of what to do if she didn't follow, how to carry on the night without her. But his mind was blank.

He needed to know what was happening.

He wanted Rey back. _His_ Rey. Every time he thought he felt her, it was as if she was snatched away.

Not snatched away. She would rebuke him. Over and over again, she had rejected him.

Now it was the last chance to get the truth.

He had planned a way forward for himself without Rey before. Again, she had entered his life and shattered his meticulously constructed disguise, thrown a wrench in his new plans.

He just needed to know why, even if the knowledge pained him. Cut off the gangrenous limb, be it a leg she had healed or a hand she had held, whatever it took to remove the trace of her touch.

They would have to face each other as they were, with nothing left to hide behind. Anakin, of course, would have delighted in this.

His words floated once more into Ben’s mind.

_You’ve worked too hard to find yourself again. Don’t give up. You’ll find what else you’ve lost._

When he heard the door slide open again, it was as if the hall was filled with fresh air and warmth, a familiarity cradling his mind. He did not turn.

_Be good, little starfighter. Use that heart. It won’t lead you astray._

Rey waited until the door had closed resolutely behind before moving down the hall toward the shadow of her lover. His broad back faced her, resolute and strong. 

A memory returned to her of the last time she saw him. Naked, bruised, healing, but so full of light. So full of love. And now he wouldn’t look at her. 

She approached until she could almost reach out and touch him. She wanted so desperately to touch him again. 

But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. 

Instead, she stood and awaited judgment.

Slowly, reluctantly, turned to face her, afraid of the torrent of emotions that ripped through the hollow cage of his chest.

He was surprised by their closeness. He could not meet her gaze.

The silence stretched between them, questions unanswered thick in the air.

"The Resistance, my mother, they sent you to find me," he muttered, his voice cold, quiet. "You say you want to get me out of here."

He opened his arms so she could see all of him, but he stared at the sea of scarlet pooling around her legs, his head dipped as if waiting for an ax.

"Here I am. Take whatever you want from me. Just tell me the truth."

Her eyes raked over him, seeking out the warm brown of his gaze. 

If he was going to ask the truth of her, he would have to look her in the eye.

“Look at me,” she murmured.

His eyes traced her red painted lips.

"Who will I see?"

“You know who I am. Look at me.“ 

Her heart fluttered nervously in her rib cage. 

_See me._

At the soft caress of her thoughts, his eyes flicked up to hers, and he felt himself withering under her gaze.

She was painted up, but the coldness, the imperiousness had melted away.

He saw only Rey, only his beloved, looking more beautiful and mournful than he had ever seen her, and his heart stuttered.

He clenched his jaw. He could not afford to be emotional. Not now.

Something in her chest gave way when he looked at her. Something like grief, like joy, like release. This was the moment where all of her fears might be realized. What would he see in her? What would he see that was lacking? How would she be judged?

“You wanted the truth,” she began, quiet and strained. “I was sent by your mother to get you out of the First Order. That is the truth, I swear it. And I would never...never...”

She took a deep, shaking breath. With jerking, trembling hands, she pulled her voluminous skirts up over her right leg, revealing a thick black garter encircling her slender thigh. 

Ben watched as she detached a familiar metal cylinder from the band, his eyes tracing up her shockingly exposed leg. He tried not to stare, but he was stricken but just how pale she seemed. As her skirts swished back into place, she offered his lightsaber to him, the emission port facing her chest. 

“I could never kill you,” she whispered.

After all this time, all the effort he had put into seeking out a new weapon, he should have been more emotional to be reunited with his blade, but all he could do was stare at Rey offering it to him. 

She was red as the kyber he had bled; she was the blade that cut into him now.

But he would not take the offered hilt.

“Is that what you were sent here to do? Is that what my mother had planned for you?”

He tried to breathe, take deep breaths to tamp down the Darkness, the helplessness and fear that threatened to dismember him.

“It's all so predictable." He tried to keep the quaking from his voice. "I knew that I couldn't just have this. We couldn't...couldn't just _be_. They'd never ship you to me on a silver platter.”

His voice dipped so low it became lost in the thrumming of music in the adjacent hall.

“Please. I don’t care about the Resistance anymore. I don’t care about the First Order. Just tell me why you’re here. Tell me what _you_ want.”

The saber fell to the floor with a clatter. 

“ _You,_ ” she choked out. “I’m here for _you,_ Ben. Please…”

Her eyes, a warm gold, did not break from his as he felt the force of her words.

A memory floated to him, a song on the wind:

_Rey sat before a mirror, avoiding her own gaze but watching the reflection of the small but powerful woman standing behind her with her hands in Rey’s hair. Tug, comb, twist, the rhythm in her scalp was soothing and fortifying at once._

_“You shouldn’t go in unarmed,” Leia was saying._ _“If you and Ben need to fight your way out, at least one of you should have a way to defend yourselves.”_

_Tug, comb, twist. Tug, comb, twist._

_“I don’t give a damn about Poe’s ultimatum,” the General said thickly after a few silent beats. “You’re coming back alive. Both of you. And that’s an order.”_

_The metallic weight in Rey’s lap was familiar and almost comforting. Ben had poured so much of himself into the lightsaber that holding it felt like she was cradling a part of him in her hands._

_Rey met Leia’s eyes in the mirror._

_“I’ll make sure we get out,” she swore._

His heart ached suddenly at the vision. Rey getting ready for the evening, tended to by his mother. Getting ready for _him,_ holding his lightsaber, her only defense, not with anger or fear, but with tenderness. The General, commanding her to return with him. 

_You’re coming back alive. Both of you._

He knew the memory was real. Rey was telling the truth; Leia wanted him alive. A twist of relief and remorse clawed at him suddenly; he should have known to trust Rey.

He opened his mouth to reply when he felt an alarm blare in his mind. The Force alerted them to an interruption to their reunion. He jerked toward the doorway, then turned back to her.

Officers were seeking him.

_We have to go. Now._

He called his discarded lightsaber to one hand, while the other wrapped around her elbow as he tugged her quickly away. He yanked her around a corner into another passageway just as he heard the door to the hall open and music flood into the corridor they had been standing in. She struggled to keep up with his long strides, his hand on her elbow a focal point in her senses and the static in her blood all at once. She stumbled with him in a daze, her mind reeling. 

He hurried Rey along, guiding her quickly until they were far enough away in the labyrinthine Star Destroyer to avoid immediate detection.

She looked around with wild eyes, seeking out the officers that she feared were just behind them. When she returned her attention to Ben, he was staring down at her.

The questions still spun in his head like the couples on the dancefloor. Resistance, Rey, rescue him, murder him. Truth and lies, appearances and reality, assumptions and facts, all whirled in his mind.

But Rey was in front of him. Not Viré. His Rey. It was the only thing he was certain of as he watched her take deep, grateful breaths, her expression desperate as she looked back at him.

"Where did you go, Rey?" he finally whispered.

Her shoulders went rigid, nervous fingers tugging at the ends of her long sleeves.

“Somewhere you couldn’t find me,” she mumbled. “Somewhere I lost myself…”

She couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Not until they were safe somewhere. 

They considered each other for several moments, seeing each other with fresh eyes. Their defenses were dropping, their armor falling to the ground between them.

Ben felt the heft of the blade in his hand, the weapon she had given him; he had given her her own words, the note the last weapon he could have possibly thought to use on her. Now they were both disarmed as well.

"When I found you again, you were afraid of me."

"No!" she said quickly. "No, not of you..."

Her fingers curled involuntarily, the tendons in her wrists shifting beneath the ruined skin hiding just under sheer sleeves. 

"I—I was terrified of what you would see. I'm not...I'm not who I was when you...loved me."

The last words left her in a whisper.

"Neither am I," he said softly. "But I'm not sure that I love you any less now than I did when I…"

The words on his tongue were heavy with honesty. "...left you behind."

Her heart thumped deliberately in her chest, a sound hard enough to bruise. Rey looked up at him, her eyes shining and shifting in the cold, dim light in the hallway. Her lips parted, but nothing slipped between them but air. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Could he...after everything that happened…

Did he still love her?

“I—” She froze. Another tightening of the Force around them, a warning.

“They’re coming,” she hissed. 

He felt it. Stormtroopers patrolling the floor, coming from behind him.

He and Rey would have to slip deeper into the Star Destroyer, but it would be worth it.

He offered her a gloved hand. 

Her fingers trembled faintly against the smooth texture of his palm. He cradled her gently in his grasp, giving her fingers a tiny squeeze before they were moving again. Her hand nearly slipped out of his almost immediately as they picked up speed, but almost as quickly, he entwined his fingers with hers. It felt like true safety, to have her hand held by him again. She blinked the mist from her eyes quickly and followed him deeper into the guts of the _Absolution_.

After weaving through enough passages, Ben stopped sharply, pressing his back against the wall. They had found solitude again, and this time he was almost as out of breath as she was.

He clipped his lightsaber onto his belt and looked down at her, making sure she had weathered their sudden escape, but she seemed to just watch him.

"You think...you think I won’t want who you've become," he continued as if they hadn't been interrupted. "Tell me: who are you now?"

It seemed to even linger in his eyes. The way he was looking at her, cautious, almost fearful; it brought the sting back to her own eyes.

She thought about showing him, pushing her memories to him through the Force. Opening her mind and letting him in so she wouldn’t have to say the words aloud. But she still remembered a long-ago conversation between them, in a ramshackle cabin in the deep woods. About hiding behind memories. 

She had let the past shield her for too long, so afraid that giving her traumas voice in the present would make them real. If the pain stayed in her memories, they could fade and soften and be so easily overlooked as lies that she told herself. But she could never lie to Ben. 

This time, everything would be harder to explain. But she needed to do it, even if she didn’t have the words right now to describe it all. She owed Ben that. She owed herself that. 

Gingerly, she peeled back the edges of her sleeves, revealing the raw and healing skin of her wrists. She pulled away just enough to hold out her hands, palms upturned as if in supplication. She looked down between them; she couldn’t bear to let him see the shame behind her eyes.

He seemed to shrink then, his face breaking from a cold, determined mask into genuine distress. 

Then understanding began to trickle into his mind, masked by a wall of heat and anger and vengeance that he hadn't quite destroyed.

He had spent years in the First Order and instantly recognized the marks left by binders that had been left on too long. These were the scars of long-term prisoners who were on the brink of forgetting the bliss of freedom. How had Rey, righteous and luminous, gotten them? His vision grew dark quickly; it was as if the air was sucked out of the corridor. Rey could feel Ben’s rage building like a pipe about to burst, his hatred a familiar shadow clouding his presence.

Anakin’s voice returned, a memory:

 _Above all things, she wanted_ your _safety and guarded it fiercely. You dishonor her to push that love away again._  

His anger caused him to quake, the darkness wrapping around his mind, but it was guilt, raw and hungry, eating at his fragile heart.

“...Force dampeners,” she said, her voice nearly inaudible, an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. 

"...who did this?" he hissed, already knowing and dreading the answer. 

She was so close now, and yet the sensation of distance was just as acute as before they had been in each other’s minds on the dance floor. He extended a finger, as if preparing to trace the lines, but withdrew, afraid of causing any more damage, and balled his hands into fists at his side.

“They did this to you. The Resistance...” he whispered sharply, his voice a blade against the silence. He took a slow, deep breath, steadying his tumultuous thoughts, trying to calm the darkness, if only for her. He would not hurt her anymore, and he would not jeopardize their solitude. He gently cupped her hands in his as he looked at her wrists, the angry, raw skin that hadn’t had enough time to heal before she was brought here. It was all he could do not to howl in anger, not to curse. He gritted his teeth.

“They did this to you because of me.”

He looked up at her. “How long?”

Her gaze went right through him, fixed on some invisible point miles away. 

“I was...I was cuffed the day that your mother landed on Takodana. They only came off long enough for me to mind trick Dwane into bringing me here a few days ago. And then again before I arrived here.”

Her breathing was becoming shallower and shallower.

“I pushed you out because I couldn’t bear for you to see what was left of me,” she said, her voice taking on an edge that hadn’t been there before. “You wanted to know who I am now?”

She shook her head, trying to hold back frustrated sobs. 

"This. This is all that I have left to give you," she croaked. “And you…”

When she looked back up at him, her lashes were dark and spiky with unshed tears. 

“You are...everything,” she said thickly. “You’re the sun. You are home and warmth and peace. You are adventure and heat and battle.”

The fire of his hands radiated through the leather of his gloves, burning sweetly against her skin.

"You are all I ever wanted and everything I will never deserve.”

The pain of the last several months had hovered like a cloud over him, had possessed him as a beast lashed to him. It was the pain of want, certainly, but also the despair of loss, the uncertainty of failure, the guilt of cowardice, and the panic, always the panic, that he had felt as the bond shut between them one last time.

The cloud faded, and the beast slunk away, leaving him with only the light and harmony he had rarely known, the bliss that came from Rey’s love and adoration.

She suffered for him. Sacrificed for him. And after all this, she loved him still.

He released her wrists, and slowly, mechanically, peeled off his gloves, shoving them in his pocket. Palm to palm, he took her hands in his. 

Carefully, breathlessly, he pressed his fingers against hers, enjoying the sudden relief of her touch. He closed his eyes.

“Rey, you pulled me out of a smashed TIE fighter, dragged me back from the brink of Darkness, gave up your freedom for me. I don't deserve to even stand in your presence."

The anger, rage, and disgust at the cause of Rey's disappearance and the damage it left on her burned through him, but she needed him now.

He leaned in closer, his voice growing more frantic as he tried to pull her back to him. Carefully, he brought a finger up to caress her cheek.

"Don't you ever believe you are less than anyone, especially not me. You got away from Jakku. You saved your friends. You're the reason I'm here, alive. No one can take that away. Not even the Resistance."

Her eyes squeezed shut and her head bowed over their joined hands. A tremor ran across her bare shoulders.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.

"I was afraid you hadn't wanted to. That you hated me for running..." 

His felt the heat in his head as he remembered running from Takodana, leaving her alone. He squeezed her hand tighter.

"It's all my fault."

Again her head shook vehemently, tugging a few loose strands of hair from her complicated hairstyle. Her fingers tightened on his.

“No. No, I told you to run,” she murmured. “I will never regret that if it meant that you were safe.”

He wove his fingers through hers, looking at the back of her wrists.

"I came back to the First Order to try to recover so I could find you again, but...it was all wrong. I’m still that coward who ran, took to the skies to save himself, rather than stay and fight for you," he murmured. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

“I sent you away," she pressed. "You ran because I told you to. It's not your fault..."

He cupped her cheek, soothing and comforting. Rey pressed her face into his touch, dimly aware that it was his right hand, no longer bound to his chest by her old rags.

There it was again, the Force restricting around them to warn them of danger, and this time Rey and Ben jumped in unison.

Before Rey could react, he tugged at their joined hands again, trying to remember the layout of the Star Destroyer.

There had to be somewhere. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they could steal time together.

He tugged her gently, urging her to take off at a jog behind him as he strode quickly down a nearby corridor.

Blood red gossamer floated out behind her in a cloud of color as they moved. He hadn't let go of her when they set off, and now she couldn't bear to think of letting him go either. A lightness returned to her heart that she hadn't felt in far too long and it felt like her feet were barely touching the floor.

They felt a sudden bristling. Rey’s head twisted, shooting a look over her shoulder.

She turned back to Ben.

_They’re coming from over there._

Their eyes bolted ahead of them.

The door-lined corridor ended at a viewport.

 _Dead end,_ he thought. 

He saw the panic flash in Rey’s eyes, but he jerked her forward one more time.

_In there._

He stopped in front of a door and released her hand for a second to press his palm against a panel. Once the door slid open, he whisked her inside, cold lights flickering to life in a stale, stately conference room, and he hurried to shut and lock the door behind them. They had found a War Room.

The footsteps grew quieter in the hall and dissipated into the depths of the ship.

The vastness of space opened up to them through a long bay of wide viewports. Stars shimmered all around them. Quiet reigned, but for the breathing of the room's occupants. Alone. Together.

Rey turned to look back at Ben. She could scarcely comprehend his nearness after so long apart. 

She approached him on silent feet; his eyes followed her movements, but not with the desperate focus of the ballroom. He was watching her the way he had in the forest as if he couldn't quite believe that she was real. 

Was any of this real?

With aching slowness, she pulled him into her arms, lifting up onto her toes to reach him. One arm curled around his shoulders while her hand drifted up to the back of his neck. She clung to him fiercely, unwilling to let him go. His bulk filled her arms as if the empty parts of her soul were welcoming him back into her.

With a whisper of fabric against the floor, Rey the scavenger, Rey the Jedi, Rey, his Beloved, slipped back into Ben’s arms, pressing herself against him. She felt slighter, but the heartbeat that pressed against him was strong, certain. For a moment, he could almost pretend this ugliness, this suspicion and distance and suffering and longing, had all been a nightmare while they dreamt together in the cave. Rey’s warmth and light seemed to scatter the darkness that had been chasing them through the _Absolution_ , the shame at his doubt and guilt and anger at her suffering. For this moment, none of it could touch him. Not now, not when she needed to hold him, and he needed her just as desperately. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her melt against him, a missing piece put back into place.

"You came here to find me?" he asked quietly.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless, but she couldn’t quite convince her lungs to work properly.

"And who did you find?"

“I found you,” she whispered. “No more or less than what you are. Just you.”

"And am I what you wanted?” he asked, face near her shoulder, his breath hot on her neck. “What you expected? Or did I change too?"

“You’re Ben. _My_ Ben _._ You’re all I need, all I want.” 

She gave a wet little laugh. 

“You’re...real. Aren’t you?” she whispered, scarcely more than a breath against his hair.

“I’m here,” he said. “This is real, Rey. We kept our promises this time.”

The warmth of his arms through the thin fabric of her gown nearly melted her knees beneath her. Her heart pounded erratically behind her ribs. She tilted her head back to look up at him, her lashes thick with unshed tears.

Despite the tears that threatened to fall, he recognized the determination in her eyes. He had seen it in the cabin the night they made their escape. He had seen it in the dim amber glow of the candledroid when they had arrived at the cave. He had seen it when she returned the next day, straddling his broken body with hers, slender and bare and beautiful.

He pulled away from her momentarily to wrap one hand around her waist, curling the fingers on the other under her chin as he pulled her face closer and his lips found hers at last. 

She gasped against his mouth, her eyes fluttering closed as her arms tightened on his shoulders. The Force sang in her ears, blending with the pounding of her pulse. She felt him in the chords of crystalline music and nearly wept for the joy of his presence in her mind again. 

The bond between them, dormant but still strong, awoke and stretched its filaments between the two lovers. Bound again and in the sweetest of chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ah, the tango: the dance where you make it clear that you despise your partner and won't look at them, in the hopes that they'll fuck you."

**Author's Note:**

> We here at House/Lights Productions enjoy giving you the highest quality ~~smut~~ fiction the content mill can offer. For that, we let our stories age in a cellar ~~in our moms' basements~~ in Vee's weirdly-wallpapered basement to achieve perfect continuity and that slight nutty flavor you crave.
> 
> Updates will be slower than in the past because we are writing this one with the linear attentiveness of a jackal on the Gravitron. Your indulgence is appreciated.


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